


Hawke: The Last Airbender - Book One: The Avatar Returns

by valroyou (orphan_account)



Series: Hawke: The Last Airbender World [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Blood Mage no Seisen | Dragon Age: Dawn of the Seeker, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Alternate Universe - Avatar: The Last Airbender Fusion, Carver Hawke/Leliana - Freeform, Concept Art Solas, Cullen/Cassandra Friendship, Lots Of Cheesy Fluff, M/M, Mage Abuse and Oppression, Major Original Character(s), Merrill/Solas - Freeform, Minor Original Character(s), Slow Build, Slow Romance, Themes of war, fenhawke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8299915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/valroyou
Summary: ** TEMPORARY HIATUS **(This book is more of the introductory book and is considerably short. The sequels will be much longer.)Garrett Hawke, after the death of his father Malcolm and his twin sister Marian, is the last living Airbender, and the next Avatar. He reunites with his long lost siblings, Bethany and Carver, and the three of them work together to help Hawke prepare to take down Fire Lord Van Markham; before it's too late. However, a child-like fascination with an escaped slave from Tevinter is steering the Avatar away from his tracks. All the while, an exiled-princess from Nevarra, Cassandra Allegora Pentaghast, hunts him without rest- willing to believe that slaying the Avatar will earn her a place back at the Fire Lord's side. Then, a mysterious elf who calls himself Solas offers to help the Avatar by acting as his guide through Thedas- promising to lead him to trainers that will ensure his victory in the battle against the Fire Lord. Is there yet hope for Hawke and his merry band of misfits? Or does this elf have hidden motivations? Will Hawke's newfound love for Fenris tear him from his destiny? Or will Cassandra catch up to them before they get the chance?





	1. Long Lost Brother

**Author's Note:**

> ( Dragon Age and Avatar: The Last Airbender mashed into one. Not a crossover because no characters from A:TLA are present. I do not claim ownership of A:TLA or the concepts / storyline presented with in it. )
> 
> This first few chapters are the only ones that stick extremely close to the storyline in A:TLA, after that it branches off into it's own storyline with unique character backstories and romances. I changed a lot of things in the A:TLA universe so that it would blend well with the Dragon Age universe. IT IS NOT MEANT TO BE THE SAME UNIVERSE AS DRAGON AGE OR A:TLA. It is a universe all it's own with elements from both. 
> 
> Please do not leave comments correcting me about how something works in the A:TLA universe because I may or may not have misrepresented it. This is not 100% the A:TLA universe. A rather large amount of things are going to be different for the purpose of making this story work. Please be respectful and think before leaving critical comments. 
> 
> But I've been having tons of fun writing this so I hope you enjoy it <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethany is the last waterbender in Fereldan. On a hunt for fish, her and her brother stumbled upon a man- frozen alive inside an iceberg- not realizing that this man not only could be the difference between life or death in the war against the Fire Nation, but that this man was their long lost brother.

_**“** All the beauty that's been lost before wants to find us again. **”** _  
― U2

 

Stories tell that, in the beginning, Thedas had been ruled by four powerful spirits sent by the Maker, those from which all people descended. The first and the oldest of the spirits was Air. He was wise and the grace of his touch seemed perfectly endless, as his was the element of freedom. He presented himself as a human to his people, having deep amber skin to remind them of the season of autumn. The second oldest of the spirits referred to himself as Earth. Earth was hardy, brave, and as level-headed as the dirt below his feet. He presented himself as a dwarf to his people, to express his strength for his was the element of substance.

The third spirit was known as Water, and she carved her way through the earth to create rivers as well as oceans. She presented herself to her people as an elf, lithe and flexible as hers was the element of change. Her eyes were palae and her skin shone ivory, to remind her people of the season of winter and the snow that came with it. The youngest of all these powerful spirits was Fire. He was easily the most powerful and most destructive of all his siblings, when his ambition overcame him. He presented himself as a giant to his people, a grey skinned giant with horns protruding from his head- a Qunari. For his was the element of power.

When war broke out amongst their people and the spirits knew that there could be no peace between them without a compromise, a sacrifice. So, they came together as one being, a person who knew the importance of freedom, the value in substance, the necessity of change and the danger of power: the Avatar- master of all the elements, and named her Andraste. The Avatar would make peace for their people so long as they lived and when that Avatar died, their spirit would reincarnate into the next Avatar. They would protect Thedas from evil.

That was their original plan for peace, or so the legends say. Now, it seems as though those legends have been forgotten. The Fire Nation, now split into three powers, rules almost all of Thedas. The citizens of Thedas haven’t seen peace in almost 20 years.

The largest of those powers is the Andrastian Chantry, spreading across Orlais as well as Nevarra. The human firebenders under the Chant pushed the Qunari, the original firebenders, out of Thedas and onto the coastal islands of Par Vollen and Seheron- where they’ve kept to themselves. Tevinter is the second largest power in the Fire Nation, and it’s maintained a steady rivalry with the Chantry. It all stems over a disagreement over the first Avatar, Andraste. The Chant believes that the first Avatar was born as a nonbender, while the Imperium believes that Andraste was born a firebender, despite the fact that the first firebenders were Qunari.

The Earth Kingdom rules on the outskirts of the Fire Nation, just along the coastlines and along the deserts. The Western kingdom is known as Antiva, and the Eastern is the Anderfels. Just south is Ferelden and the Free Marches, land claimed by the human Water Tribes after they pushed the Dalish into the wilds. And last, but not least, there are the two Air temples that hover just out of reach of any other political power: Lothering and Ostagar.

These powers once lived among each other in peace, Avatar or no, legend or no legend. Each element kept to it’s own culture and lived happily, that is, until the Fire Nation attacked. They came together under Fire Lord Van Markham, pushing southward to extend their reach across all of Thedas. But, they knew in order to do so, they’d have to fight the Avatar. According to the elemental cycle, first would be Air, then Water, then Earth and Fire- so the next Avatar would be born an airbender, as Avatar Calenhad had been born a firebender.

Then, branding itself an enemy to all of Thedas, the Fire Nation destroyed the air temples- removing any chance that the next Avatar would be born. Now, everyone is at war against them as they fight to keep all of Thedas under their thumb. Thedas’ only chance of facing the Fire Nation now, would be if the Avatar, by nothing short of a miracle, happened to return.

Bethany Hawke is the last waterbender in her tribe, and she knows these stories better than her mother, the one who’d first told them. It gave her a reason to hope that there was something more for her family than the snow drifts and the weeds the covered Ferelden.

“Wake up, sister,” a hand shook her shoulder and brought her attention back to the task at hand. “You’ve been staring down at the water like that for half an hour now. Yet, we haven’t caught one fish.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and huffed, letting her shoulders fall.  Right. They were supposed to be… fishing? Fishing. “Sorry, brother,” she let her hands fall in the water and watched as it swirled around her fingertips. She wasn’t the best at this just yet, still learning, but getting there. Without another bender in the tribe to teach her how to waterbend, she was left to her own devices. She pulled a stream of water from the pool, moving it in the air above her in soft circles. If only she could just-

_“Bethany!”_

She yelped as the water drenched her entire coat. Her twin brother, Carver, chuckled quietly from behind her. Though he was known in their tribe for his bravery and cunning, his maturity was still lacking. Extremely lacking. “It’s good to know you’re still _quite_ the child, brother,” she squeezed water from her sleeves. “What an example you make for the young soldiers who look up to you.”

“They can handle themselves, when they need to,” he scoffed, turning back toward the water as he fiddled with the spear in his hand. “I’ve taught them well. When the Fire Nation comes, they’ll be ready.”

“They’re children, Carver,” she turned to face him, expression stern. “They’re no more warriors than they are penguins.”

He laughed again. “At least a penguin can catch a fish,” he held up his spear with a proud smirk, a fish squirming at the tip. He was knocked off balance, however, when their canoe collided with a hunk of ice beneath the water. The fish was sent back where it came from. “Blighted glaciers-” he dropped his spear and grumbled as he took hold of one of the oars. “I swear the god who thought putting all this ice out here in the middle of the ocean was a good idea is a bent up son of a-”

“Brother, look!” Bethany snatched his arm and pointed outward, toward the glacier they’d struck with their canoe. It had drifted up toward the surface, bobbing just along the top like a fishing line. “There’s a man inside there.”

Carver stiffened and snatched his spear. “What in Andraste’s name-” he stepped in front of his sister and shielded her with his free arm. “Stay back, sister, this could be-” Only a gentle prod from his spear and the iceberg split open, straight down the middle. “ _Oh, sweet Maker…_ ” A ray of light, brighter than anything either of them had ever seen, blinded them and shot into the air above, a beacon. What kind of magic was at work here? He could only _imagine_...

* * *

 

“Pay attention, Cassandra,” a snap of fingers. “I cannot speak with you if you are blatantly refusing to listen.”

Cassandra looked up from her book and frowned towards her uncle, making a point of glaring at him as he slammed the book shut. She never cared to listen to her uncle’s lectures about the values of Nevarran traditional culture. He was a mortalitasi, overseer of the Grand Necropolis as a matter of fact. His was the art of preserving the dead- such had become a very popular trade for a lot of the benders in the Fire Nation who preferred to stay out of the war. It was as much a part of Fire Nation pride as masquerades, magic, and scandal. “I’ve no interest in your dull tales,” she pushed herself to her feet, letting the book slide to the floor. “I’ve been given specific instructions by the Lord Seeker and those are my only concern.”

“Cassandra,” he set down his wine and huffed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. It was Tevinter wine, Degrazio- said to be made from the blood and tears of slaves. His favorite. “It has been nearly twenty years since the templars destroyed the Air temples. The Avatar is likely dead and likely died in the attack, but if not- they will quickly be found. You’re far too easy to read, dear Cassandra. Even if you found the Avatar, it would not return you to the Fire Lord’s side no matter how you wish it or why. The man who gave you those orders is dead, seven years dead, Cassandra. I’m afraid you are only left to lead the Seekers-”

“Which seems to have become yet another pawn of the Chantry,” she turned toward the horizon, ocean winds whipping at her hair. “Now we are but mercenaries, thugs, doing dirty work for the Divine as the templars go to war.”

“The templars are the soldiers of the Fire Lord now, as you once were, so they are no longer the defenders of faith,” her uncle chuckled, taking a long sip of wine. “With the Avatar dead, Seekers need no longer hunt them. Instead, they take the templars place under the Divine. It is simple politics, Cassandra.”

“I detest it,” she snarled. She’d begun to pace along the deck, hands forming fists at her side. “You noblemen and your civics- I’ll never understand it. Instead of searching for reason, you would rather stand in your own fire and complain that it is hot. And _you-_ ” she turned toward him, cheeks hot with fury. “are no better. You sit above the war with the rest of the mortalitasi, preserving and curating the ashes of the dead as though it is a meaningful art. You don’t care about the Fire Lord or the Divine. You don’t care about the war or the innocents caught in the crossfire. You only care about your legacy, your _legacy,_ Vestalus.”

“You are too _brash_ , Cassandra-”

“I am not,” she retorted. The hidden snicker beneath her uncle’s tone had only seemed to infuriate her more. “I see what must he done, and I do it. _"_

Suddenly, both of them were silenced when an explosion sounded in the distance, a massive force that disrupted the pattern of the waves. Her head shot up when she saw a beam of light pierce the sky; some kind of powerful magic. Her thoughts were reeling, for their could be only one source for that sort of magic. “The _Avatar_ …-” she snatched her sword from her hip, her heart pounding. “Uncle, tell the men to point the ship toward the Fereldan. The Avatar is _alive_!”

* * *

 Carver stumbled back in an effort to shield his eyes from the light, taking Bethany down with him. The hunks of broken ice slipped easily away into the water and as the light faded- Bethany could see movement. The man inside the ice… he was- he was _alive_. He pushed himself to his feet and loose shards of ice fell from his shoulders. It was still hard to make out his form as her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted, but she could see him stretch his arms above his head as a gentle wind formed around him.

Then he lept and in an instant he was in the boat behind them, legs tucked neatly beneath him with a smile on his face. “Oh, does it feel nice to be out of there,” he popped his neck and laughed. His accent was southern but vague in origin. “Thanks for bustin’ me out, by the way. That’s some good work you did there.”

Bethany opened her mouth and shut it- not sure what to do or what to say. “H-How did you- Why were you-”

“In there? I have no idea honestly,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t remember much at all, now that I think of it. Where am I?”

She hesitated. “Gwaren,” she said. “The Amaranthine Ocean, specifically.”

“Ferelden,” he breathed, shoulders relaxing. “That explains the furs you’re wearing. You’re from the Water Tribes.”

“And who are you?” Carver suddenly spoke and his tone was notably hostile. “Where did you come from?”

“Uh-... Lothering,” he scratched his beard. “I’m pretty sure, anyways.”

Bethany felt her heart leap. “ _Lothering?_ The Air Temple?”

Carver frowned. “But the Fire Nation-”

His sister quickly silenced him and scooted closer to the strange man, observing him with the curiosity of a child. “So, you’re an airbender! You must’ve met the Avatar then. Who was he? What was he like?”

The stranger hesitated and his smile vanished. “Oh, he was-... he was-” he stared past the two of them. “He’s-... he’s the bravest man I ever knew.”

“Is he still alive?” her eyes brightened.

“N-no, I- uh,” the airbender swallowed and forced a smile. “He died, he’s dead now. Yeah. I think- I’m not so sure.”

“You never stated your name, stranger,” her brother noted. “Who are you, exactly? Or do you remember?”

He snorted and his new smile was easier on his features, genuine. “The name’s Garrett, but you can call me Hawke. Garrett Hawke.”

“Carver Amell,” his shoulder’s relaxed but his suspicious gaze was unyielding. “and this is my twin sister, Bethany.”

She waved and offered a polite smile, trying to contain her excitement at meeting another bender. “You seem weary, Hawke,” she said, taking an oar in her hands. “My brother and I will bring you to my mother, her brother’s the chief of the tribe and she might know how you got stuck in all that ice.”

Her brother gave her a dangerous look and snatched her arm. “Sister, no,” he hissed at her, just below his breath. “You don’t know a thing about this man. What if he’s dangerous? What if he’s a spy for the Fire Nation?”

“Relax, brother,” she shrugged him off and handed him the other oar. “He’s been trapped in that glacier for Maker knows how long. He hardly remembered his own name let alone any master he may have once served.” She smiled. “Besides, if I’m wrong and he turns out to be evil, _you_ get to be the hero who saves the day.”

Carver contemplated this for a long moment, lips pulled in a tight line. Then he harshly snatched the oar, grumbled something under his breath, and they were on their way back to the village.

He couldn’t help but cast side glances at the mysterious airbender in the boat with them. He was heavier built with muscular arms and a chubby midsection. His hair was jet black, like he and his sister, and cut short just off of his forehead. His beard was sharp but messy at the same time, how someone managed to accomplish that was outside of Carver’s concern. And, on the bridge of his nose, there was a faint tattoo or even a birthmark that resembled a downward arrow that extended all the way up his forehead.

He was not much older than them, twenty five at the youngest, but his arms were covered in scars. Carver couldn’t help but wonder where this man had truly come from, and how in Andraste’s name he had managed to survive the attack on Lothering by the Fire Nation nearly twenty years ago- when he and his sister were only newborns.

It wasn’t long before the three of them arrived at the shoreline just beside their village. A small troop of children in thick furs greeted them, holding spears that were much too large for their hands. Their predatory gaze had locked right on Hawke, and Carver couldn’t feel anything less than pride. “Stand down, soldiers,” he raised his hand and pushed himself to his feet. “He’s coming with Bethany and I to see mother. Do you know where she is?”

A little boy with the biggest spear pushed himself to the front, wearing an even bigger smile. “She went up the hill to talk to Chief Gamlen,” he said. “She’s been up there since you left, Sir Amell, sir.” He then added a salute for good measure and Bethany couldn’t help but giggle.

“Thank you, Roderick,” he returned the boy’s salute. “All of you return to your post, remember what we practiced.” And they scattered without another word, each one smiling and swinging his spear. He was so lost in watching their departure that he’d forgotten about the airbender still waiting patiently on the canoe.

“What a frightening band of warriors,” Hawke noted with a light chuckle. “The Fire Nation must be trembling.”

Carver’s signature frown then returned as he stepped off of the boat into the snow. “Come on, we still have to bring you to mother- for whatever good that will do.”

The Water Tribe itself wasn’t very large, not compared to the ones in Denerim or Redcliffe, but they held their own. Bethany, however, was the only waterbender on this side of the Waking Sea. It had been nothing far from impossible for her to find a teacher at this point. Her grandfather, Aristide Amell, had been the chief of their tribe just a few years ago. With his recent passing, his youngest son Gamlen Amell has taken the charge- though only because her mother, Leandra, had rejected the offer. Gamlen has always been known as a greedy, bitter man, targeting most of his hatred toward his sister for she was the one who'd always held Aristide's favor- despite her rebellious ways. Leandra could have easily made a better leader than Gamlen, that is, if she weren't so sheltered. 

As long as Bethany had been living, her mother had always been the quietest woman she'd ever known. The elders in the tribe said that Leandra used to be the loudest of the tribe and by far the most expressive. Everything changed once the twins were born, or so they said. She'd never been the same spit fire that she once once. Now, she sat in her hut out of the way of the cold winter winds and made blankets for the women who would soon be mothers. To Bethany, she had always seemed a simple woman who lead a very simple life. She'd never seemed to be more than that. 

"Would anyone in this tribe know someone with a skybison or-... I don't know- a _dragon_ by chance?" Hawke asked carefully as the three of them walked through the village. He could see men curing meat over fires and children fighting with wooden swords. It sort of reminded him of home, ignoring the snow. 

Carver gaped at him, not sure how he was meant to react. "A...a sky-what? A  _dragon?_ " he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why, of all things you could possibly ask for, would you need a _dragon?_ Besides, dragons haven't been seen for-" 

"The Fire Nation hunts dragons, especially in Tevinter. According to their culture, a firebender can never fully master his abilities until he's hunted and killed a dragon," the airbender explained. "The species nearly hit extinction, until we intervened. We captured and tamed the dragons that Tevinter hunted. We started riding them when skybison were in short supply. In all honesty, I just need something that can fly. That's the only way I can get back to Lothering."

"Why? There's nothing left of Loth-"

" _Carver!_ " Bethany clamped a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, Hawke didn't seem to be paying attention. "Why do you need to go back to Lothering?" she asked with a forced smile. 

"Because that's my _home_ ," he sighed sadly and looked past the two of them; gaze absent. "I need to get back to my father, to my sister, to dog. I don't know how long I was in that ice. They probably think I'm dead." 

"You had a _dog?_ " her eyes twinkled with interest. Fereldan used to be full of dogs, until the Fire Nation recruited them for the army, that is. You hardly ever saw a dog any more without fearing for your life. They were symbols of terror now, and nothing else. To imagine that there were still dogs out there who could be friendly and loving, it was extraordinary. 

"No, not a _dog_ , per say," Hawke chuckled. "He was... a pet."

"Let me guess," Carver scoffed. "He was a _dragon_." 

" _Carver_ , there's no need to be an ass. This man is our guest." 

"This man is ridiculous," he returned, throwing his hands in the air. "Absolutely _full_ of wild, baseless tales. How do we know you're telling the truth? You could be a maniac. Maybe some waterbender a long time ago trapped you in that ice because you're dangerous or something. This is all just... a big mistake." 

Hawke smiled, unaffected by the insults thrown at him by the red-faced boy at his side. "I suppose you could believe that. If you do, then I'll just be on my way." He turned on his heel and waved to Bethany- heading the opposite direction. She panicked the thrust her hands foreward in an attempt to reach for him. Instead, the snow below their feet swirled and made a barrier around Hawke's legs; freezing him in place. Children who had previously been watching them gasped with awe, rushing over to Hawke to prod the ice formed around his calves. "So, you're a waterbender," he looked back at her and laughed. "Cool trick." 

"I-I don't know how I did that-" she looked down at her hands in mixed amazement and horror. "I'm the only one in the tribe. So I don't exactly know what I-" 

"Bethany!" A middle-aged woman rushed out from one of the tents, throwing herself at the girl and wrapping her thin, weathered arms around her shoulders. "How many times do I have to tell you to never use your abilities on people? You could get somebody hurt, Bethany, my girl." 

 Her shoulders slumped and she shrugged her mother off of her, taking a few careful steps away. "Sorry, mother," she mumbled dejectedly.

"Oh, and what have you done to this poor man?" Leandra pushed past Bethany and crouched beside Hawke, breaking the ice off of his legs with her hands. "I apologize dearly for this, my girl didn't mean any harm-" She huffed as she removed the last piece, unable to get back to her feet on her own. The burly airbender took her small hands in his large ones, pulling her up with the gentle touch of a person one third of his size. "Thank you. Thank you again. I do apologize for-" She froze in her place, finally getting a good look at the man in front of her. Were those tears welling in her eyes? Bethany was dumbfounded. Was she hurt? What was going on?

"Garrett?" she breathed, clutching Hawke's forearm with unsteady hands. There was a new light in her eyes, one that neither Bethany or Carver had seen before. 

He stiffened and looked at Leandra with the eyes of a startled doe. Did he recognize this woman? A part of him felt as though he did, that he knew her very well. Another part felt as though he didn't know her anymore, like she was a memory hidden beneath rust and age; no longer familiar to him. Then, it hit him. He remembered the woman who had always been a guest at the Air Temple, the woman who stood at his father's side while the monks preached to him. His mother. His _mother_. "Mother?" he mumbled, hardly able to believe it himself. 

She snatched the tall, chubby man into her arms as though he were just a little boy. "I thought you'd been killed," she whispered tearfully as she pressed kisses on his cheeks. Bethany and Carver stood in too much shock to speak, only watching in horror as the scene before them continued to unfold. Leandra paused for a moment and released Hawke, looking him over carefully and running her fingers through his hair. "My boy, it's been- it's been twenty years. How are you... how did you-"

"What is the meaning of this?" Another man came out from the same tent, arms crossed over his chest. He wore the thickest furs of the entire group and his coat cascaded down to drag in the snow behind him- like he was a king. This must've been Gamlen. "Who is this stranger, Leandra? Why did you let him into our village?"

 "I brought him," Bethany spoke up, Gamlen's accusations bringing her back to her senses. "He was frozen inside an iceberg, we saved his life." 

Gamlen frowned and glanced between the four of them: from Leandra, to Bethany, to Carver, and lastly to Hawke- who he studied more closely than the others. "Leandra, you have a lot of explaining to do," he growled, turning back toward the tent that he'd come from; pausing at the entrance. "Come, all of you. No one leaves until we've gotten to the bottom of this mess." 

* * *

"Explain everything, Leandra," his predatory gaze locked on his older sister. "How in Andraste's name do you know this man?" 

"Why are you attacking mother?" Bethany challenged. " _I'm_ the one who brought him here-" 

"He's right, my girl," Leandra squeezed her arm and gently tugged her back into her seat. "There is something I must confess to you, to all of you. It's something I should have told you a very long time ago."

Carver looked between the three of them, seeming more frightened than anything else. "What do you mean, mother?" 

"Go on, Leandra," Gamlen sneered. "or do _I_ have to tell it for you? I've kept your dirty secret for you long enough, Leandra." 

She cast a wary look at him, but did not argue. Hawke sat on the far side of the tent in a corner, separate from the rest of them. Though, he could still hear what was being said despite the bone shackles that Gamlen had put around his wrists and ankles. Leandra closed her eyes and took a deep breathe, fingers restlessly fiddling with the tail of her coat. "No need," she said, defeated. "It's my story. I should be the one to tell it." 

"When I was a girl, you could say that I was never one to follow rules," she began. "When mother told me to stay inside and help her with the sewing, I'd run out to the hills and chase the penguins. When father told me to sit down and read a book, I ran away to the forest and climbed the trees until my palms were covered in cuts and scrapes. In the forest, when I was just fifteen years old... I saw a skybison. It was the biggest thing I'd ever seen in my life and of course, I went up to it. And out of nowhere this boy, an airbender, comes out of the brush and stops me."

"He told me that the bison was sleeping and that he'd be thoroughly upset with me if I woke him. He told me his name was Malcolm, and I..." she paused and smiled to herself. "I fell in love with him."

"I ran away with him to the Air Temples so that the two of us could be together forever. My father hated me for it. He told me that our children would be mongrels and that I'd never make anything of myself if I spent my life with him," she said. "but I didn't care. The monks at that temple were kinder to me than any of my family had ever been. We had our first children when I turned eighteen- a pair of twins. One was an air bender, the other a nonbender; a boy, and a girl."

"Garrett, and Marian," Hawke added, a smile creeping across his features.

Leandra smiled back at him and nodded, turning to Gamlen. "Yes, Garrett and Marian," she said. "I had planned to return home after that, but... under certain circumstances, I chose instead to stay." 

"Why?" Carver narrowed his eyes. "Why did you stay?" 

Her shoulders fell and she sighed, eyes pinching shut. "The monks said that my son was the Avatar." 

"I couldn't leave then. This was history, my son was going to save the world," she continued before any one else could speak. "I was pregnant again by the time Garrett was twenty five. I was in my late thirties, I hadn't planned to have more children but the Maker had something else in store for me, I suppose. Malcolm convinced me to return to my family, to raise his children in the Water Tribe. I hadn't seen my family in twenty eight years and he thought it was about time I fixed things. He was right, I knew he was right. He'd planned to take Garrett across Thedas to learn the other elements, to follow his destiny. I couldn't tear him away from that." 

"But then, as soon as I'd reached Markham- I heard news of the Fire Nation attack," she choked, covering her hand with her mouth as tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "They were hunting the Avatar, but they didn't know what he looked like. So they killed everyone, even the nonbenders, just to be safe. When I got to Gwaren, my father didn't say one hateful word to me. He took me in his arms and embraced me. He'd forgiven me for everything that I'd done. He'd forgiven me for abandoning him for almost thirty years." She had to stop to control her sobbing as she scrubbed her eyes with the furs of her coat. Gamlen looked on without sympathy, dark eyes boring right through her. 

Leandra sniffed and collected herself, adjusting her coat and sitting up straight. "I gave birth not long after that, another set of twins," she said, looking her brother dead in the eyes. "A bender and a nonbender, a boy and a girl. I named Bethany after a beautiful monk's wife who'd helped me take care of Garrett and Marian when they were just babies. Carver was named after the monk who trained Garrett in air bending, he was the man who made my son who he is. Both of them, amazing people- slaughtered purposelessly. Just like Malcolm. Just like my son." 

"But I'm _not_ dead," Hawke insisted, on his feet now. "I'm perfectly fine. That could mean that the rumours could've been wrong. Others might have survived too, like father and Marian. There's still hope." 

Leandra shook her head. "I doubt it. They would've returned by now." 

"You don't know that," Hawke said, more hostile now. "I'm going to go back home, and I'm going to find them. You're wrong. You're _wrong_." With that, he stormed out of the tent. A gust of wind following him out- strong enough to rock the entire structure.

Gamlen groaned audibly and put his hand on his forehead, letting his eyes close. "He's your boy, Leandra." 

"He needs to get through this on his own," she huffed. "It may have been years, but I know my son." 

"We should go with him," Bethany stood up as well. "He's going to need us, especially if it goes bad." 

"We?" Carver frowned and crossed his arms. "I'm not going up to Lothering, do you realize how difficult it is to travel there without a skybison or- or- something like that? What is he to me any way? We found him in an iceberg! He's a total stranger to me!" 

"He's your _brother,_ " Bethany insisted, snatching him by the wrist. She pulled him to his feet and forced him to look in her eyes, her gaze hard. "and he's the _Avatar_. Doesn't that mean something? Does that mean _anything_ to you, at all?" 

Carver huffed and shook his head, unable to look his sister in the eyes. "Alright, I'll come." 

"If you wish to get to Lothering, you'll be traveling for days," Leandra turned away from her brothers, now approaching the twins and putting her hands on their shoulders. "I may be able to show you a faster way, if I still remember it. It's been a very long time." 

"Come along then, mother," Carver groaned, turning away from them and trudging out of the tent. "This is officially the most senseless day of my entire life." 

 


	2. The Northern Air Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and company make their journey to Lothering, the Northern Air Temple, and he reunites with an old friend. Upon their return, they receive a surprise visit from the Fire Nation as they hunt down the Avatar.

_"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger."_  
— Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

 

The Northern Air Temple, Lothering, sat at the very tip of one of the tallest mountains in Thedas. You'd be hiking for no less than a month if you planned to make the journey on foot. Because of this, Carver was grateful that his mother knew an alternative route. If he was going on this journey and he didn't have a choice otherwise, at least he didn't have to spend a month, in the middle of the winter, hiking up a mountain side.

Apparently, during the first Blight, the Grey Wardens made an alliance with Avatar Aeducan and all of his dwarven followers. In an effort to save the people from the dark spirits, the monks in the Air Temples agreed to protect as many civilians as they could hold within their walls. The Wardens couldn't possibly hike all of the women, children, and elderly up the summit to Lothering, so the dwarves helped them build a tunnel through the mountain. It saved thousands of lives from the Blight. This tunnel had since been abandoned, and abandoned for nearly a thousand years. 

The entrance was shrouded in vines and other foliage that had grown there over time. It was so thick that you wouldn't notice that there was anything behind it unless you already knew about it before hand. If Leandra hadn't been there to show them, they would've been hopeless to find their way. 

He could tell that the tunnel was old just by the way it smelled when they walked in. It was a rotten, dusty kind of smell with no traceable source. It just lingered, it made his sinuses burn. There were dwarven carvings along the walls, he almost felt as though he were making the journey down to Orzammar rather than to the top of a mountain. Of course, Orzammar had been destroyed by the Blight too. Not much was left in those tunnels now. In the carvings, he could see depictions of honor for Aeducan and the Grey Wardens, as well as the names of those who'd used this path to escape the dark spirits- made out in tiny writing. 

He could hardly believe how fresh these carvings still looked after all this time. They'd been protected from nature and human touch for a millennium, they never faced anything that might do damage to them. They looked as intricate and brilliant now as they looked when they were originally chiseled. 

"Look, Carver," Bethany had said as she stopped to observe said carvings, running her fingers over a name on the wall. "Erasmus Amell & Revka Amell."

"It's a coincidence," Carver rolled his eyes and walked onward. 

"Brother, this is our _ancestry,_ " she insisted. "Aren't you a little curious, at least?" 

"Not at all," he said. "Those people are dead, sister. Their names are nothing.  _Their_ pasts don't shape _mine_. Nor yours."

Bethany's shoulders fell and she frowned. "I suppose you have a point." 

The entire climb to Lothering wasn't nearly as miserable as Carver had imagined it. Partially because Hawke hadn't said a word the entire time. Not unless some one spoke to him first. All he seemed to be able to focus on was his home and getting back to it, regardless of the prying eyes of Carver and Bethany. That is, until Bethany brought up the fact that Leandra had outed Hawke as the Avatar. 

"So, why did you lie, Hawke?" she turned, blue eyes staring right through him. "Why didn't you tell us you were the Avatar? It could've saved you trouble." 

Hawke hesitated for a while before he answered. He was silent for so long that Bethany almost feared he hadn't heard her, but then he said; "Because I don't want to be." His hands formed fists at his sides. "I never asked to be the Avatar. Hell, I'm not even good enough to be the Avatar. I'm just... I'm just..." he paused again. "I just want to be like anybody else. No special treatment. No fate of Thedas in my hands. Just... _me_." He smiled. "Nothing special old me." 

The tunnel dumped them off in a courtyard at the front of the temple, and it seemed as though they'd walked into a ghost town. Bethany had an uncomfortable feeling in her gut as she watched Hawke observe the place, his eyes wide like a newborn child looking up at it's mother. "How long have I been gone," he murmured to himself. "The monks really let this place go." 

"Hawke-" Carver began, but Bethany silenced him, shooting him a dangerous glare. 

"Let him be," Bethany whispered. "Just let him be." 

The two of them could do nothing but watch as Hawke jogged through the abandoned courtyard and up the front steps of a large building- presumably the temple. He easily opened the doors with airbending- assuming that this was the only way that the doors could be opened. "Father! Marian!" he shouted, holding his arms wide at his sides. "I'm home!" 

The empty temple had nothing to say to Hawke. It only echoed. His voice bounced off the walls, slowly growing softer and softer each time it returned to his ears. _'I'm home! I'm home! I'm home!'_

 His face fell. "Where is everyone?" A gust of wind tore through the room, opening every last door. Then, he ran out the far right side to a balcony that over looked an area that had once been a garden. He'd trained here as a child, this was where he learned to bend. This may as well have been the place he'd learned to walk-... and yet it was destroyed. Flowers torn from their roots, fountains smashed and bits of broken dreams lying with the dirt that stained the marble. 

And, as he looked on, he saw the bodies. The rotting, charred corpses of everyone he'd known and held dear to his heart. Bethany couldn't look, the smell alone was enough to send her to the edge. "Hawke-" she whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I-"

"No," he pushed her away and climbed over the railing. He landed gracefully to the ground but the look on his face and the way he walked was nothing close to elegant. _"No, no, no."_ He could recognize all of their faces. How long had he been gone? That one, a monk's daughter who made him hot tea whenever the nights got cold. She was only ten. And that one, he taught Hawke how to fight with his staff. And that one there, he showed Hawke how to work with the dragons, how to tame them. He suddenly felt sick. It was all so nightmarish, he could hardly swallow the reality of it. 

When he reached the head of the garden, what he saw practically kicked his knees out from under him. He would always recognize this face, even as it rot and hid beneath soot. "No," he forgot how to breathe. His robes were still the same, he could still see the bright yellow and orange beneath the ash. "Father, no." Hawke snatched the shoulders of the lifeless form at his feet, hands shaking. His cheeks were so numb that he could hardly feel the tears running down them. "I came _home_ , father, _I'm home_." 

Bethany stood not far behind him, but she doubted that he noticed. She wanted to do something, to say something, to comfort him, anything. But all she could say was: "Hawke? Are you okay?" 

He stiffened. "They couldn't have killed them all," he mumbled as he stared down at what was left of his father's face. "There has to be a survivor, some one who escaped." 

"No," Carver shook his head. "The Fire Nation came here to kill the Avatar. They wouldn't let _anyone_ slip out of there alive."

"You're _wrong,_ " he stood up and his cheeks were flushed with color. "They didn't kill everyone. They _couldn't_ have." Bethany tried to take his arm but Hawke was off before she could reach him. His movements were fluid but, at the same time, they were rushed and frantic. The twins chased him out of the garden and down a gravel pathway that lead past the cliff's edge and then into another courtyard. The state of this one, however, was far more gruesome than anything that any of them could have expected.

Hawke could've fainted just then, either fainted or threw up. A rapid pulse thrumming in his temple, malaise swelling in his skull. This couldn't actually be real, could it? Could this be some vivid nightmare, conjured by the dark spirits living in his subconscious? If only that were a possibility.

They found themselves in the stables, where the sky bison and other mounts had been kept and cared for. In order to prevent any chance of escape, the fire nation had killed every last animal living in these quarters. The dragons were decapitated, heads taken back as trophies for a battle hard won regardless of the fact that this had not been a battle, but a slaughter. The sky bison were in no worse condition, throats sliced open and blood staining the pavement. These animals were innocent, as tame and docile as they come. There wasn't a mean bone in their bodies. Even the dragons. They were bred and raised here, tame from the day they hatched. They were about as dangerous as horses.

And yet here their bodies lay in the aftermath of a murder in cold blood. Carver was right. The Fire Nation really didn't let anyone or anything out of here alive. Bethany let out a soft sob as she bent down beside the body of a sky bison. For just beside it's head, several lemur bats lay with their throats splayed open.  "Its like they tried to fight," she whispered as she ran her fingers through the bison's fur. "The Fire Nation didn't need to kill the lemurs. There was no purpose in it but yet they killed them anyways. It's... It's..."

"It's war," Carver  said, trying to hide the fact that this display had him on the cusp of nausea. "But I suppose you were telling the truth about the dragons."

Hawke fell to his knees, heart beat throbbing in his ear drums. Then, without saying a word, he began to scream. Carver flinched as he watched him, watched the tears drip from his nose and chin. "Hawke," he stepped towards him, offering a hand. "Take my hand." 

"Carver," Bethany shivered. "Stand back." 

As if on cue, the arrow markings on Hawke's skin lit up bright purple- the same color of the beam that split the air after Bethany pulled him from the iceberg. A cyclone seemed to form around him as he rose from the ground and his screams were silenced by the whistling of the wind. "Hawke!" Carver shouted, pulling his sword from his belt. He desperately tried to reach him through the tornado he'd trapped himself in, calling his name over and over. There was still no response. Then, his screams grew even louder. His eyes began to glow the same purple as his markings and the wind grew so strong that it nearly pulled Carver off of his feet. 

" _Hawke!_ " Carver begged, even though he wasn't sure what exactly he was begging for. He supposed he was begging for anything, really. Maybe he was begging for something reasonable to happen, for something to happen that wasn't wild or ridiculous, something that didn't insinuate reality in the idea of destiny. He just wanted something... anything normal. Just for a few minutes. "Come down so we can- so we can talk or- or-... I don't know, _something!_ " 

 "It must be the Avatar spirit," she said. "I have to calm him down." 

"How do you know? There hasn't been an Avatar for almost fifty years!" 

"Grandfather told me," she huffed, stepping even closer. "I grew up on those stories." 

"Sister, do you truly believe all that nonsense?" 

"Some one has to." Bethany stepped past her brother and walked toward the cyclone, using her hand to shield her eyes from the dust.

"Bethany, be careful!" he warned. He reached to grab her but he was too late. She was too far into the storm now. "We don't even know him!" 

"He's our _brother!_ " she returned, reaching toward Hawke and taking his hand in hers. "That's all that matters."

Through Bethany's touch, as if by magic, Hawke was pulled from his trance. The wind stopped, the dirt settled again, and Hawke fell back to the ground. Carver let out a sigh of relief and shielded his sword as Bethany knelt at the Avatar's side, running her hands over his forehead. "It's going to be alright," she whispered. "Their spirits have moved on." 

Hawke shuddered and choked, falling into himself. "They probably got Ostagar as well," he murmured, more to himself than to Bethany. "I-... I'm the last one." He shivered again and hid his face in his hands. _"I'm the last one."_

Bethany opened her mouth to say something, but she was silenced when a low, rumbling growl shook the ground below their feet. Carver's whole face went white. "Perhaps that means we should make our way back to Gwaren-"

"Shh!" Hawke silenced him and his head snapped up again. "Let me listen." The growl sounded again, more loudly this time. Carver looked like he was about to piss himself. 

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "We need to get out of here!"

 _"Quiet!"_ Hawke repeated, on his feet now. He looked carefully around the stables and frowned, searching for the source of the sound. Then, he drew two fingers to his lips and let out a loud, ear splitting whistle.

Carver was about to cuss Hawke into oblivion for that,  when he heard footsteps- heavy and frantic. "What in the name of-"

Hawke's face lit up with glee and relief. "Dog!" 

The twins could hardly believe their eyes when a massive dragon came barreling around the corner, eyes glowing and mane rolling in the wind behind it. Carver let out a girlish scream and ducked as the beast galloped past him, leaping right onto Hawke. Bethany giggled to herself as she watched the dragon, quite like a dog- or what a dog might've used to be, nuzzle Hawke's chest and run it's tongue along his face. She was half convinced that her eyes were deceiving her. That this was not a real life dragon before her eyes, but an exact image of what her grandfather told her dogs were supposed to be like. 

"Dog!" Hawke laughed and kissed the beast on the nose, hands laced into it's thick mane. "Oh, and just when I'd thought you were a goner." He pulled himself to his feet again and pat the creature on the head, smile never ending. "You were here when they attacked... weren't you?" his eyes softened. "How did you get out? How did you survive?" 

Dog only chuffed in response, rubbing his muzzle against his master's hand. Bethany swore she could hear it purring. 

"I suppose that doesn't matter now," Hawke sighed, climbing onto a saddle that was strapped just at the dragon's shoulder blades. He turned towards the twins and patted the empty space on the saddle behind him. "Hop on, he doesn't bite." 

"You're kidding," Carver wheezed. "You expect us to fly back to Gwaren... on a _dragon?_ " 

"Oh lighten up, brother," Bethany rolled her eyes. "This is a chance we might never get again." 

Carver cussed under his breathe as he climbed on behind his sister, clutching the base of the saddle. "Can't I just have _one_ normal day?" 

* * *

This was the first time that Cassandra had ever been to Gwaren. Thus far, her travels had never taken her anywhere but Antiva and the Anderfels, the bitter cold of the south was unfamiliar to her. Her uncle had poked fun at her as she'd come out of her quarters that morning, dressed in so many layers that you could hardly see the shape of her body at all. She'd ignored him. Today was a glorious day for her. They'd docked ship in Gwaren, the Southern Water Tribe, and she finally had a lead.

Today, she would capture the Avatar and earn back her place as the Right Hand of the Fire Lord, where she'd been ever since she was eighteen years old. Now she was late in her thirties, and growing tired of fighting for her honor. Now would be her chance to get all those lost years back. 

The tribe had gathered with their spears and swords drawn, huddled helplessly at the front of the ship as they wanted for some one, anyone to come out. Cassandra glanced at her face in the mirror, running her fingers over the scars that lined her lips and cheek. Her hair was cut short, as was traditional and combed away from her face. Her uniform was sharp and intimidating, gold lining the seams and fabric forming points at her shoulders. She looked tough, she looked like a soldier.

Was this what she had imagined for herself when she looked in the mirror as a child? Had she imagined herself this brutish? Had she dreamed to be a Chantry thug that had once been respected enough to serve beside the Fire Lord himself? Her blood had put her in that position, that she knew for a fact. But it wasn't as though her bravery and skill in battle hadn't kept her there.

The Fire Lord was her father by blood, a stranger by relation. The only father she'd ever known was her uncle. Her true father, Fire Lord Van Markham, was nothing but a superior to her. Another face to impress if she wished to find herself in a position of respect and honor. He was nothing more than that but yet, ever since her brother's death, she'd found herself climbing for his approval, killing to be at his side. It was all she knew. She hadn't yet allowed herself to become anything else. 

"Cassandra?" A thickly accented voice called from the door, turning Cassandra's attention away from her reflection.

Standing in the door way, she saw her uncle's apprentice- a woman several years younger than her by the name of Mistress Lilling Matthias. The two of them had spent most of their teenage years together. She was a tall woman with almond eyes and a flat, button nose. Her hair was shaved down to stubble and she wore long, elegant robes as all mortalitasi wore- just like her uncle. She was intelligent enough, but she'd always been a face in the background. A person that Cassandra never allowed herself to learn too much about, to get too close to. 

"Vestalus is waiting for you," she said, folding her hands behind her back. "He said that the soldiers are ready whenever you are." 

"Thank you, Mistress," she said blandly as she put on her helmet. It was a royal helmet, one that she had intended to discard into the ocean after she was exiled from Nevarra. Yet, she'd kept it for some reason. It marked her as a leader among the soldiers who accompanied her. That was what she told herself, anyways. "Then I shall head onto the deck with the troops." 

"Cassandra," Lilling let out a long sigh, moving to block off the door way. "Are you sure that this is right?"

"That is not for me to decide," she said honestly, not looking at the other woman. "If an order is handed to me by my superiors, it is my duty to carry out that command. Regardless of my own morals." 

The apprentice nodded, her gaze wandering past the Seeker and toward the mirror. "And what do you intend to do when this is done?" she asked. "When you are no longer a Seeker; for the fact that you have nothing left to seek? With the Avatar dead, that is." 

Cassandra was silenced by that, not sure how she was meant to react. What _did_ she intend to do after she captured and killed the Avatar? She would petition to remove her exile in Nevarra and return to the Fire Lord's side, but what then? Would she find herself endlessly hunting Avatars, killing one and then leading a mission to hunt down the next in order to ensure the military success of the Fire Nation? That was no way to live and she knew it, but yet she could not envision any future for herself otherwise. 

"Again," Cassandra turned away from her reflection and made for the door, pushing past the apprentice who stood in the way. "That is not for me to decide." 

As promised, Vestalus and her navy soldiers were waiting for her on the deck, standing at attention with their hands stiff at their sides. "Lower the ladder," She commanded, watching warily as they tossed the ladder over the side of the ship and it landed promptly into the snow. Her uncle said nothing to her as she followed her men down the ladder. He only watched with his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pulled tight. 

The villagers seemed to cower amongst themselves as she approached, watching in horror as though they expected her to flay them alive. An older man stepped to the front of the group, wearing a thick set of furs that drug in the snow behind him. "We don't want any trouble from the Fire Nation," he stammered, before clearing his throat and correcting his posture. "What ever we can do for you, we'll do so and then you can j-just head back on your way. No one needs to get hurt." 

"Good, then this will be simple," she cracked her knuckles absently, searching the crowd of people for a face that stood out to her. "Where are you hiding the Avatar?" 

The man in the furs went white. "I-I'm afraid I don't know what you're-" 

"Do not play games with me," she barked, pulling her sword from her belt. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." 

"They left this morning!" he squeaked. "I haven't seen them in-" 

Cassandra was on him in an instant, kicking his feet out from under him and towering above him in the snow, sword pointed to his neck. "I will ask this one last time," she growled. "Where is the Avatar?" 

Several children in the crowd began to scream, pointing up at the sky. _"Mommy! Daddy! Look!"_

The Seeker's attention was snatched from her target as she turned her gaze upward, searching the sky for what could have possibly frightened these children. Then, she saw it, and her heart plummeted to her stomach. "Is that a-" 

 _"It's a dragon!"_ An older woman shouted.

Cassandra abandoned the prey that she'd caught under her sword, stepping back to get a better look at the beast above her. It swooped down, tearing through the air like a whip and landing easily on the snow. Sitting on a saddle at it's shoulder blades there were three riders, a girl and two young men. One of the young men wore the robes of an airbender, and bared corresponding tattoos. She snatched their chief by the collar of his furs, putting the blade against his neck. 

"Avatar!" she called to the airbender on the dragon, fingers tight on the handle of her sword. "Surrender yourself to the Fire Nation, or the innocent will be killed." 

He raised his hands in the air, slowly sliding off the dragon and moving to the front of the crowd. He was a young man, which was odd to her. She had expected some one in their forties or fifties at least. How could a child have survived the attack on the Air Temples so many years ago? As he got closer, she could see that his eyes were amber, just like the robes that he wore. "Oh come now," he said with a smile. "Surely we can be a little reasonable-" 

Cassandra released the man in her arms and turned her blade toward the airbender, the tip barely brushing against his Adam's apple. "You will come with us," she stated. 

 _"No!"_ A girl, not much younger than the airbender, moved to the front of the hoard and shoved herself between the Avatar and the blade. "You can't take him. I won't let you." 

She narrowed her eyes at the younger woman and scoffed, taking her by the arm pulled her downward. Easily her foot connected with the girl's face and sent her down into the snow. "And I have come to far to take orders from children," she said. She gestured to the soldiers who waited patiently behind her, putting her sword back in its sheath. "Take him. We shall bring him back to the capital for execution." 

"No-" the girl screamed, pushing herself up from the snow and trying to run- but she was easily sent back to the ground by the soldiers who flanked Hawke. Another deep growl sounded from not far behind them, the dragon's nostrils flaring. It charged toward the soldiers, disregarding the villagers and focusing only on rescuing Hawke. One of the firebenders in the group of soldiers turned to face the beast, fire forming in his palms. 

 _"Dog! stop,"_ Hawke finally spoke up. He looked up at his pet with a desperate look in his eyes as the soldiers tied his arms behind his back, jerking him around as though he were some kind of animal. The dragon halted in it's place, long, snake-like body slumping onto the ground. It looked toward it's master with gentle, intelligent eyes. Cassandra swore she could see some kind of genuine grief in them. "Let them take me," he pleaded softly. "I don't want these people getting hurt because of me." 

"You can't just let them do this Hawke!" Carver shouted. 

"I can," Hawke sighed. "and I will. I don't want them to do to you what they did to my family."

The mast of the ship came unhinged, landing in the snow as a boardwalk that lead back up into the ship. "Tell Vestalus to inform the captain of our victory," she said, clutching the Avatar by the arm. "We're headed to Val Royeaux." Hawke watched sadly as the twins stared up at him. He could see the defeat in their eyes, the lack of hope. As the mast began to return to it's place and the ships doors came to a close, Hawke looked toward his new found siblings and offered them a smile. 


	3. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke has been captured by the Fire Nation. His only hope now is that Bethany and Carver will come to rescue him, or that he'll be able to make his own escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more characters in this chapter, even though it's a lot shorter than the previous ones c : thanks to everyone for the comments and the kudos, it means a lot !!

_**“** The isolation of the survivor persists even after she is free. **”**_   
― Judith Lewis Herman

Three days. His gaze drifted to the streaks of blood on the walls of his cell, tallies of the nights he'd fallen asleep on these floors. He tore a bit of skin off the tip of his thumb with his teeth, causing blood to leak down the side of his palm. He made another tally. Four. He'd actually spent _four_ days in this hell. He wasn't sure what he was expecting next.

Were Carver and Bethany planning to rescue him? Would he get a chance to escape before he was executed? He slammed his forehead against the grate, groaning loudly. What had he been thinking? Why in the name of all that is holy would this be a good plan? He should've fought back. He shouldn't have acted like a coward. He- 

"Hah, you might as well give _that_ up." 

Garrett flinched. He'd assumed that he was the only prisoner down here. "What?" he said. 

A man stepped up to the front of his cell, leaning against the iron bars and crossing his arms over his chest. He was tall and lanky, his frame sort of reminded Hawke of a bird. Broad chest, skinny legs. His hair was strawberry blond and pulled away from his face, tied neatly at the base of his neck. And, though very faintly, he could see a gold earring shimmering in the firelight. 

"Those," he nodded to the blood smeared on Hawke's walls. "That won't do anything but make you feel more hopeless than you already are." 

Garrett narrowed his eyes, watching the man carefully. "Who are you?" 

The man smiled. " _You_ may call me Anders," he crouched to sit down on the stone, stretching out his long legs in front of him. "I was a healer, you know. I'm a hero. I have no reason to be here. I spent my days following the war, helping as many of the refugees and the wounded as I could. Then the Fire Nation and the Templars decided that I was an Earth Kingdom spy." He snorted. "This is a picturesque little place isn't it? Aside from the elephant rat poop in the corners. Bastards."

Hawke quirked a brow and returned his smile. "Who? The Fire Nation? The Templars? Or the elephant rats?" 

Anders laughed. "All of them, I suppose," he shrugged. "They used to keep cats down here to get rid of them, but ever since the Seeker found out that I'd befriended them, she sold them to the Tevinter navy." He fell silent for a moment, lips pulled in a tight line. "Anyway, who are you? Where are you from?" 

"You can call me Hawke," he propped his elbows up onto his knees. "I was born in Lothering, now I suppose I don't belong anywhere at all." 

The other's eyes widened. "Lothering?" he breathed. "So that means you're an airbender. If _you're_ an airbender, the only reason you're in here is because you're-" 

"Yeah, yeah," Hawke silenced him. "I know." 

The healer's face lit up and he jumped to his feet, leaning up against the bars. "You know, if _you're_ the Avatar, I might know a way to get us out of here." 

"I'm just an airbender," Garrett assured him. "I'm hardly worthy of the title." 

"That doesn't matter," Anders huffed. "Do you know how long I've been trapped down here, alone? I've crafted escape plan after escape plan since they've locked me up." He gestured to the walls behind him. Hawke was rendered speechless. The concrete walls were almost made completely white because of the amount of images and schematics scratched into them. Had he used his earring to draw all that? Or his _finger nails?_ "I've never been able to go through with it alone. Just listen. If you help me, I'll help you." 

"Alright, but between you and me, I'm not the Avatar. I'm just-... I don't know, I'm just a normal person. Okay?" 

"I can work with that, Hawke the Normal Person," he smiled. 

"So," Hawke pulled himself to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. "what's this plan of yours?" 

* * *

"We have to go after that ship, Carver," Bethany insisted. She'd been pacing beside the dock for almost an hour now. It had come to the point where she'd dug a ditch in the snow that followed her trail. Carver sat a few feet away from her, leaning against a rock. "Hawke _saved_ the tribe. We can't just leave him out there to die."

"Sister-" 

"Why are you so pessimistic? He isn't the enemy. It's not as though he's a templar from the Fire Nation sent to kill all of us and conquer our land. I know you don't like him, brother. I know he seems a little long winded. But if we don't help him, no one will-" 

"Sister!" he snapped, turning her attention away from her pacing and back to him. "Are you going to shout all day or are you going to come with me?" She turned to see what he was talking about when she saw a canoe sitting in the snow beside him, ready to be pushed into the water. Her heart raced as she ran over to her brother and took him in her arms, squeezing him as tightly as she could. 

"Alright, sister, alright," he pushed her off easily and fixed his coat, running his fingers through his hair. "Now, get in. Let's go get your brother." 

" _Our_ brother," she corrected.

There were footsteps in the snow behind them, followed by a voice that they would always be able to recognize. "Where exactly are _you_ going?" Carver turned around quickly, offering his mother a forced smile and folding his arms politely behind his back. Bethany did the same, the two of them moved almost in complete unison. They even had the same dimples on their cheeks. They had expected a lengthy lecture about duty and responsibility to the tribe but instead, Leandra handed each of them a hand-woven blanket. "You should take these," she said. "You have quite a ways to go to reach that ship." 

"I know he's a stranger to you, but it's been so long since I've had any hope," Leandra continued, taking each of their free hands in her own. "You, my girl, will accomplish great things some day. I know it." Then she turned to Carver and took him in his arms, as much as she could considering that he was twice her size. "and you, Carver," she kissed his cheek. "Take good care of your sister." 

"Hawke may be your brother, but he is also the Avatar," she said. "He's the world's only chance, and you two found him. I believe there was a reason for that. From now on, your destinies will be intertwined. Whether you prefer it or not." 

Bethany sighed, looking down at the blanket in her hands. "Well, there's no way we can chase that massive Fire Nation ship in a canoe," she muttered. "We wouldn't make it out of the gulf." 

"Don't worry, my children," Leandra smiled. "I won't leave you stranded." A massive gust of air roared past them, nearly knocking them off of their feet. A familiar dragon, the one Hawke had called 'Dog', landed just behind Leandra. It rubbed it's nose against her shoulder affectionately, purring sounds rumbling from it's torso.

Bethany laughed and shook her head, walking over to the beast and slowly running her fingers through it's thick mane. "This is fantastic, mother."

"Allow me," she stood beside the saddle and cupped her hands together, allowing Bethany to use her as a step stool to get onto the dragon's shoulders. "Come, my son. You won't have much more time to catch up to them."

Carver swallowed, watching the dragon in front of him as though he feared it would lunge at him and eat him at any moment. "You take a step, Carver," he grumbled to himself. "Take a step, do something _completely_ mad, repeat, repeat, repeat." 

* * *

 

Cassandra leaned up against the rails that surrounded the main deck, the ocean breeze flowing easily through her hair and across her cheeks. She looked at the staff in her hands, the one that they'd taken from the Avatar upon his capture. It was light and felt as though it might've been hollow. She'd have no use for a staff like this, not when she came from a family of predominantly nonbenders. Her uncle was the only bender left alive in their family, something he took pride in. Such as everything else. There was not a quality about that man that he didn't take complete confidence in. It was a trait she envied as much as hated. 

"So, you have gone and done it," Vestalus carefully came to stand behind her, propping his elbows on the rails. "I wish to apologize to you, Cassandra. I have criticized your ambition without relent and yet here you stand as a successful woman, fulfilling a promise you've always remained true to. I am sure that Anthony would've been proud of you."

She didn't know what to say at first. She only stared at the staff in her hands, observing the natural creases in the wood and the patterns within them. "He would not be proud that I had our family exiled from our homeland," she said. "He would not be proud that I continue to fight for a cause I struggle to believe in simply because it is the only way of life I understand and the only way of life in which I succeed. Anthony would look at me now and he would see me as I am. He would see me as a mad woman. A coward." 

"You do not give yourself enough credit, my niece," her uncle chuckled, putting a hand on the small of her back the way he did when she was a girl. It always seemed to calm her down. "Your career does not define your morals, Cassandra. Our destinies have always been predetermined. Yours is to fight along side the Fire Lord, and aid him in winning this war. No matter what it takes. In that area, you are succeeding. You are doing what you know you must do even though you struggle to be happy in doing it. For that, Anthony _would_ be proud." 

She moved away from his touch and handed the staff to one of the guardsmen, asking him to take it to her quarters. "I suppose you are right," she said, looking away from him. "If this is the role that I was meant to play, then I will play it to the best of my ability. No matter what that takes." She stormed off toward the office cabins, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Retrieve him from his cell," she said. "I wish to interrogate him before we arrive in Orlais. Perhaps I can learn how he survived the attack, or how he tamed that dragon. It would be advantageous for our armies."

He gave a humble nod. "As you wish, my dear Cassandra."

* * *

 "You've clearly had a lot of time to think this through," Hawke chuckled, laying on his back now. "So, what happens after? Am I meant to come back for you?" 

"Unless your airbender kite can hold two, I think that's the plan," Anders hummed. "I've been waiting to get out there again. There's so much I'm missing. I've tried to write letters, but the Seeker won't have it. Of course, because I'm an Earth Kingdom spy. Why would they let me send out confidential reports and endanger their chances of winning this war? It's not as though the Earth Kingdom is their most powerful enemy at the moment. Aside from you, of course."

He frowned, the thought of that alone made him upset to the stomach. He'd known he was an Avatar ever since he knew the meaning of the word, and yet it was still too much for him to swallow. So many lives resting in his hands, so much responsibility. "Have you got some one out there waiting for you, Anders?" he teased.

 "In a way," he sighed. "His name is Karl. I was living in Antiva City, working as an apprentice, learning to be a healer and helping refugees. He was an herbalist. He made potions and elixirs for a living. We started to work together once I'd finished my apprenticeship. When the war started to head south, I left to follow it. I knew it was the right thing to do. Karl, however, knew that he couldn't abandon the life he'd built for himself in Antiva. We wrote letters, that is until I was captured. Now he probably thinks I've forgotten about him, or that I've died. Which would be worse? I can't tell anymore." 

"How long have you been here, Anders?" Hawke sat up, folding his legs beneath him. "It couldn't have been too long." 

"You're mistaken, friend," he laughed dryly. "It's nearly been five years." 

"Don't they have to take you to court? Give you a trial?" 

"They don't _'have'_ to do anything. There's no rule book for proper treatment of war criminals." 

"But you're a _healer,_ " Hawke insisted. "You've never done anything wrong." 

"That's not what this is about, Hawke," he huffed. "It's about instilling fear, destroying hope. So, when a Fereldan healer starts helping the soldiers and the refugees, giving them hope: they'll do what they have to do to snuff him out. They can't kill me, because if the refugees hear it will only fuel their fire. They can't release me, because I'll be the one who makes the sparks. The safest option for the Fire Nation is to keep me locked down here. That way I can be forgotten. I suppose I should be thankful, at least I'm not in the Circle." 

"What's the Cir-"

There were loud sounds of gears turning and metal latches being undone as the door to the prison hold was pulled open. Light pierced Hawke's eyes, making him flinch. Anders didn't even move. He only continued to stare up at the ceiling of his cell, fingers dancing absently at his sides. The guards who entered were frightening in their appearance, wearing masks that almost resembled skulls. The first one turned to glare towards Anders as he stopped beside Hawke's cell, carefully pulling a ring of keys from his belt. "I hope you've not been talking to this one," he growled as he turned to Hawke, gesturing to Anders with a free hand. "He only causes trouble. The last thing you want is more trouble.”

“Hating someone based on prejudice is a terrible thing, Ghanzo.” the other man sat up, feigning a hurt expression. “And here I suspected you were above such things.”

“Silence!” The guard, presumably Ghanzo, slammed a fist against the bars of Anders’ cell, making the whole wall rattle loud enough to make Hawke’s ears ring. He then turned back to Hawke, adjusting the mask he wore on his face. “Airbender, you are coming with me,” he said. “If there is any resistance, I will not hesitate to execute you where you stand. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied obediently, keeping his gaze forward.

Ghanzo grunted and unlocked the cell door, yanking it open in one harsh pull. He snatched Hawke’s wrists and tied them together with thick rope that irritated his skin. Without another word he was drug out of the prison hold, a few other guards standing not far behind him. He noted that with their skull shaped masks and stiff uniforms, the Fire Nation really worked toward making their soldiers as intimidating as possible.

As soon as they reached the main deck, Hawke could really smell the ocean. As the waves hit the side of the boat, spray reached up past the guard rails and spattered the guards uniforms. They were completely unaffected by it and moved as though they were robots. Impartial to the world around them.

Hawke cleared his throat audibly, turning his wrists in the binds- desperate to alleviate some of the pressure. “I don’t suppose that any of you have ever fought an airbender before,” he said in the scariest voice he could muster. “I could take you down easy, even with my hands tied behind my back.” Gods, he sounded about as ridiculous as he felt. How had Anders expected this to work?

“Silence,” Ghanzo repeated, not even turning back to look at him. “Or else.”

He glanced over the rails again, glancing down toward the ocean below. If someone had fallen down there, they’d have no way of climbing back up. Just as the idea dawned on him, he took a deep breathe and launched himself backward- releasing wind the way a dragon breaths fire. He took down the two guards behind him.

As they rose to their feet, he easily kicked one in the head- sending him stumbling over board. The other drew a sword from his belt and stiffened his shoulders, but Hawke was on him in an instant. He jumped on the man’s shoulders with ease, using his legs as a means to strangle him as best as he could. When the guard fell to the ground, Hawke noticed that the third one, Ghanzo, was missing.

He didn’t have time to question it. He had to find his staff and get off this ship as fast as possible, before the rest of the guard could catch up to him. He grabbed the fallen guard’s sword between his toes, clumsily managing to bring it up into his mouth.

 _“Seeker! Lady Cassandra!”_ shouting it the distance, footsteps storming up the main deck. _“The Avatar has escaped!”_

 _Damn it._ He slipped the sword into the sleeve of his tunic. He shuffled it down to his hands as best he could without cutting himself and sloppily used the blade to cut the binds from his wrists. The storm of footsteps only got closer and it was only a matter of time before the rest of the guards could catch up to him.

He made a sharp turn into one of the doors that had been left open, leading down into the cabins of the ship. Upon his entrance, two guards had been sitting, sharing a bottle of wine. They looked completely flabbergasted upon looking up at him and Hawke just put on a smile.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he strode carelessly past them, snatching the bottle of wine from the man’s hands. “ _Ooh,_ is this _Degrazio?_ Fancy.” He took a long chug and dropped the bottle on the floor. It shattered at his feet and the guards winced. “If you don’t mind, I’d best get going. Errands and such to run. You know how it is.”

 _“There he is!”_ A shout from the open doorway and thundering footsteps just behind it. _“It’s the Avatar! Guards! Seize him!”_

Hawke was gone down the hall in a flash, taking several random turns in hopes that he would lose his pursuers. He also managed to stop at every door he could find, praying that behind at least one of them he would be able to find his staff. The guards were gaining on him, however, and if he didn’t find his staff soon he would be back in his cell. Or worse, executed in the middle of the main deck.

They were beginning to catch his trail now, rounding the corners he was about to turn into just to trap him in a hole. He had no choice left. He opened the first door he could reach and threw himself inside, slamming it loudly shut behind him. He let out a long, relieved sigh, falling to his knees. His heart was pounding so hard that he could hear it in his ears.

A feminine shout of alarm sounded from behind him and he spun around, looking up in horror at the woman who stood in front of him, just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. She wore long black robes that clung to her figure but the skirt elegantly pooled around her ankles. The room was decorated with all sorts of animal bones and strange trinkets that seemed to glitter in the light.

“I- I sincerely apologize, m- miss,” he scrambled to his feet and folded his hands politely behind him. “I was just-... I was-”

She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. She wore black lipstick, it only made her appear pale despite her caramel brown skin tone. “I’m admittedly shocked to see this wasn’t Anders who’d found himself here again,” she hummed. She had a thick, almost hilarious accent. It was like a perfect example of the stereotype of a Nevarran accent. “For… what? The fourth time? Or would it be the fifth? I’m not so sure.”

Hawke blinked, at complete loss for words. “You… know Anders?”

“He’s been on this ship for as long as I’ve been an apprentice under the Seeker’s uncle,” she said. She spoke casually as though she were talking to any regular person, rather than a newly escaped prisoner. “I’ve spoken to him a few times. He has some… _interesting_ ideas about the world.”

“Aren’t you going to… I don’t know… apprehend me or something?” 

 

She shrugged and sat down in a stool beside a mirror, prodding her eyelashes with the tip of her finger and running her hands over the stubble that was left of her hair. “I’m not a soldier, what’s done with you isn’t my concern,” she replied. "I'm just a mortalitasi. My job is to collect the ashes of the Fire Nation's noble dead and preserve them in expensive urns that look pretty for the family who come to see them. I couldn't give any smaller thought about the war."

"Well then... uhm," he looked around the room for something, anything that might be helpful. "Have you seen my staff, by chance?"

She made eye contact with him now, turning in her seat so that she could properly face him. "I'm sorry?" 

Hawke blushed and cleared his throat again, now anxiously scratching at his beard and avoiding her gaze as if that would some how mask the redness in his cheeks. "A wooden staff, yknow?" he feigned a cough. "The airbender kind?"

"I see," she rose to her feet and the tail of her dress spun around her in pretty waves of black fabric as she turned. She opened a rather large chest that sat in the back of the room, struggling to get it to stay open at first. When Hawke watched her get out his staff, he could feel his heart do a little dance. Would his escape truly be this easy? If Anders had known about this woman in the first place then why hadn't he said anything? "You're referring to this staff, I'm guessing?" 

"Yes, I-..." a smile lit up his features. "Thank you so much, I don't know how I can repay-" 

"Oh, I can't _give_ you this staff," she set it down beside the chest and adjusted her skirt. "That would be a terrible move on my part: all the way around." 

His face fell. "But you.. I thought you were-" 

"There is a delicate system of power in the Fire Nation, ser," she huffed, turning her attention to one of the many skulls in her collection. Sparks formed in her finger tips, dancing like fairies on the surface of the bone. "one I will not disrupt by blatantly acting against the wishes of not only the Seeker, but the Fire Lord himself, in my aiding your escape. Oh no, that would be back to the Circle for me. No doubt."

"But what is the-" 

"You should go," she was beside him in an instant taking him by the arm and guiding him out the door. "I can't be caught harboring you. No. This is something you must handle on your own." And with that, she slammed the door in his face and quickly bolted it shut. Never had he gained so much trust and hope in someone to have it so quickly broken and taken away. How was he meant to escape now? Finding his staff and flying out of here had been his only hope and yet- 

 _"You!"_ Another woman with another Nevarran accent. Only this was less elegant and more strict, more sharp. It almost made him think of a snake. But once he turned to face her, he could have fainted at the snap of her fingers. He knew exactly who she was just by the symbol on her bicep, a symbol he'd learned to fear ever since he'd learned that he was the Avatar. A Seeker. 

Before she could say another word he spun around and darted back the way he had came, running as fast as he could toward the main deck. But as soon as he hit the top step, a gloved hand snatched hold of his ankle and yanked him easily down to the ground. "All my life I have prepared for this," she hissed, glaring down at Hawke with a piercing set of amber eyes that bore straight through him. "I had expected you to be skilled, an enemy worthy of my caution. But here you are. And you scream and you run as soon as you see a threat. You are a pathetic excuse of an Avatar. If my trainers could have predicted _this_ outcome, I would have chosen a different life for myself than this." 

She raised her sword above her head, dagger aimed straight at his heart. He squeaked and rolled away quickly, scrambling to his feet and running onto the deck. He tried to contain the panic that was rising inside him now, but he only continued to hyperventilate as the Seeker caught up to him. She was quite easily the most intimidating woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. He ducked as she swung at him again and sent a gust of wind her way- knocking her right off her feet. She growled below her breathe and charged at him once more, ducking away from his next blow and striking him right in the side with her shoulder. 

He stumbled but thankfully remained off the ground for now. He readied himself for the next blow, trying his best to still his shaking. Then, in the distance, he heard a familiar roar like a combination of a lion and thunder before a storm. Could it be?

Out from behind the mountainous glaciers, like an answered prayer, Dog appeared tearing through the sky with none other than Bethany and Carver riding on his shoulders. He smiled so wide that he could hardly contain himself, giggling like a school girl. "You came back for me," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone around him. The sight of the red dragon was so spectacular that the Seeker even turned to look as though she'd totally forgotten that the Avatar himself stood before her.

"What in Andraste's name-"

Hawke saw an opportunity just then and he grasped it without hesitation. He jumped up, sending more wind downward in order to elevate himself as he sent his foot directly into the Seeker's face, knocking her straight down onto the wood. He could hear Carver cheering from all the way above them, and it made a new sense of warmth swell inside his chest. They swooped down and easily landed on the deck of the ship, though Dog's landing seemed to make the entire boat rock. More guards started pouring out of the chambers, flooding the deck like a plague. What ever confidence Hawke had before, it had now vanished completely. 

Carver was already down, fighting through the guards with his sword as best he could. He'd trained his whole life to fight firebenders- but this was nothing like he'd expected it to be. Dog was easily outnumbered, despite his massive size. The guards came at him with massive nets and chains, trapping him completely making him helpless to fight.The Seeker was not down for long. For, before Hawke could return his attention to the battle at hand, she sunk her sword right through the Avatar's thigh. He cried out, collapsing to his knees as blood pooled around him. He cursed below his breathe as she tore out the sword, smirk on her face. He swore he'd never felt so much pain in his life. He was either about to throw up or pass out. 

"Hawke!" Bethany cried. She rushed to her brother's side. She spilled the water from her satchel onto the ground around her and took a deep breathe, looking the Seeker in the eye as she righted herself and adjusted her grip on her sword. _You can do this, Bethany._ She told herself. _You can do this._ She made her movements at the rhythm of her breathe and her heartbeat, just as her grandfather had showed her. Then, she turned and thrust her arms toward the Seeker, turning her head so she couldn't look.

"Was that intended to harm me?" the Seeker scoffed, eyebrows cocked. Bethany felt her heart sink when she saw the puddle of water beginning to soak into the wood, disappearing like the hope she had once had for success. "Guards! Bind and jail her, the boy as well!" 

"No! Stop!" Hawke tried to stand but he crumbled back to his knees, whole body quivering in pain. He clutched his leg, watching as blood stained the palm of his hand. The Seeker was behind him in an instant, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and squeezing tightly. A demonstration of power, of dominance. 

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now," she hissed.

Hawke grimaced, attempting to twist away from her touch and gasping when she only pinched him harder, cutting off his air supply. "I can't," he choked. "I can't give you a reason." 

 She released him and huffed. She didn't smirk, she didn't grimace, she just... stared. Like she didn't know what to say to that or if she was pleased to hear it or not. A guard flanked her quickly, giving a salute before speaking out loud. "What would you have me do with him, Lady Seeker?"

The Seeker looked from the guardsmen to Hawke, her gaze turning hard. "Throw him over board," she sighed, sheathing her bloodied sword. "With that leg, he'll either drown or be eaten by sharks. It does not matter to me what happens to him." Hawke could her Bethany's cries from the other side of the ship and Carver shout as he desperately fought off the guards who pursued him, but he was numb to it. He only looked forlornly toward the two of them as the guard yanked him to his feet and pushed his back up against the rails. Then, with another breathe, he found himself falling. In the next blink, he was underwater, and everything in his world became dark. 

Bethany felt her heart sink, unable to tear her eyes away as she watched the Avatar fall in to the water without so much as putting up a fight. Why had he been such a coward? Why didn't he fight back? Why didn't he try to save them? She couldn't even think of a logical reason, her thoughts drowned in her grief- desperate for some kind of air. 

"Sister!" Carver lunged toward her, sending both of them to the ground. While she hadn't been looking, one of the guards- a firebender- had been aiming right for her. If not for  him she'd have been burned alive. "Get up, we have to rescue that dragon and get the hell out of here!"

"But what about Hawke?" she pleaded as she stumbled onto her feet. "We can't leave him!"

"He's as good as dead, Bethany. You saw his leg. If he doesn't drown the sharks will come for him. There's nothing we can do." 

She looked back towards the puddle of blood where Hawke had previous been sitting, her throat aching for something: but for what? Did her body want to cry or did it want to scream? Her brother yanked her by the arm to the other side of the deck where Dog had been trapped under fishing nets. He used his sword to cut away some of the twine but it was too little and not fast enough. Reinforcements came in another blink, tearing the twins away from the nets and into the battle. 

Carver easily finished off two of them just with his sword. They didn't wear strong chest plates and the fabric of their uniforms was nothing to protect them from the sharpened steel. Bethany hid behind her brother, trying desperately to make her powers work. With every roll of her wrist the puddle at her feet refused to move. All she could do was duck behind her brother for safety and pray that a miracle would occur. 

"Come on," she whispered to herself. "We can't die here. Not today. It's not supposed to end like this." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying her best to relax. She got into position just as her grandfather had showed her and she could feel the tingling at the tips of her fingers. _I can do this._ She told herself once more. _This time, I can really do this._ She exhaled again and shut her eyes, thrusting her arms toward the wave of soldiers. She expected them to tackle her just then, to bind her wrists and put a blade to her neck. 

But there was nothing. Carver chuckled softly to himself, wiping sweat from his brow. "Good job, Sister," he smiled. "That'll do." She nearly fainted with delight when she saw the soldiers, frozen inside of their own glaciers in front of them. Finally, she did something _right_. 

"Let's get Dog out from those nets and get out of here," she sighed, pulling a knife from her belt. "We don't have much time until more of them will come." 

"Agreed," Carver quickly knelt beside her, returning to where he'd left off. 

There were footsteps behind them, harsh but calculated and definitely not friendly. Bethany cold feel her blood run ice cold. "I do not suspect that will be necessary," the Nevarran woman growled. She put a sword to the back of Carver's neck, just enough to irritate his skin but not enough to cut. "Surrender, both of you. Or I will kill the boy and send you to the Circle- where you belong." 

Bethany opened her mouth to say something, to beg, to do anything, but she was silenced when she heard the roar of rushing water behind them. As she turned to look, she was left breathless. Hawke had risen from the water, eyes and tattoos glowing as though he were some mythical spirit, surrounding himself in a thick cyclone of river water. He send blades of ice down to the deck, just past Dog to cut the neck that held him down. Carver gaped, eyes shimmering. "Gods, now _that_ is waterbending." 

He turned his gaze to the ice mountains that floated just beside the boat and he turned quickly on his heel, throwing his fist forward and sending a massive rush of water toward the glacier. Sending torrents of snow down onto the front of the ship, almost burying them completely. But, just as that was done, the light began to fade from Hawke and his sturdy form became limp. As he fell from the air, Dog didn't hesitate to leap and snatch him in his massive claws. Cassandra was frozen in her place, unsure how she was meant to believe what she'd seen. 

The dragon landed on the deck, allowing Bethany and Carver to make a quick escape by climbing in it's shoulders. _"Hault!"_ she shouted, charging toward them with her sword drawn. "I _command_ you to-" and then they were gone. 

She glanced back at what was left of her men. Most were dead or frozen, and those that remained were trying to pull their brethren from the ice. Her uncle appeared from his quarters as though he'd just been waiting to come see the damage that was done. He seemed hardly phased, but she knew that different light to his eyes. It was a discomfort he hid beneath thick skin, but that his eyes would always give away. She swore under her breathe and turned away, marching toward the piles of snow that practically swallowed the front half of the ship. 

"You could not have predicted this outcome, my dear," he easily met her pace, putting a hand on her shoulder. "This was not entirely your fault." 

She swatted him away and continued to cuss under her breathe. He swore he could see the hairs on the back of her neck standing up like she was a wild cat. "Tell the soldiers to dig us out of this mess and continue toward Val Royeaux," she glowered. "I'll be needing assistance if I intend to pursue the Avatar again. I shall not make the mistake of under estimating him twice." 

* * *

 

 As they headed back to Gwaren, Hawke was only barely conscious. Bethany sat at his side, using her coat to stop the bleeding in his leg. "How did you do that?" she asked softly as she pressed the fur into the wound, watching as it soaked up the blood. "That thing you did with the water." 

"I couldn't tell you," he murmured, clearing his throat. "It just... happened." 

"I suppose I was right the first time," she sighed. "It was your Avatar spirit." 

"I'm not so sure about all that," he chuckled. "Save the fairy tales for after I've had my nap." He closed his eyes and laid back, crossing his arms behind his head. "Did either of you see my staff, by any chance?" 

"Your what?" Carver glared at him. 

"Nevermind," he rolled onto his side. "It's not an emergency anyways." 


	4. Solas The Bloodbender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Hawke recovers from his injuries on the Fire Nation ship, he has some strange dreams where he finds himself in the Spirit Realm. Tensions rise between Leandra and her youngest son Carver, and she decides that the best decision for them is to leave and find a trainer for Hawke and Bethany. During an untimely scrabble with a bear, a strange elf called Solas comes to their rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Be excited because in this chapter you're learning how Fenris is going to fit into this whole story AND we get to meet Solas. 
> 
> Warning: I am using the concept art version of Solas for his appearance in this story, everything else is basically canon. I love the idea of Solas having dreadlocks and being darker skinned, I will continue to pray that he spontaneously grows tons of hair in the fourth game. He's 1000000000x more attractive that way.

_**"** If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that pass through my life, _

_a_ _nd you decide to leave me at the shore of my heart where I have set my roots;_

_Remember,_

_That on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms,_

_a_ _nd my roots will set off to seek another land. **”**_

\- Pablo Neruda

Soft noises danced in the air around him, sounds that he could see. With every gentle chime, a small light flickered like a pixie were calling out to him. Where was he? What was this place? He took a step, only to discover that there was no ground below his feet. Just emptiness, a tangible nothing. Was this a dream?

He heard heavy breathing behind him and he spun on his heels. Instinctively, he got in position to attack, but the man behind him made no movements. He looked a lot like Anders, the prisoner from the Fire Nation ship, but a lot less scrawny. He was filled out and wore regal robes made purely from bear fur- _real_ bear fur, not platypus bear fur. He was everything Anders could have been, or might've been before he was captured. The man’s eyes were empty and from the sockets came an eerie white light, it pierced through Hawke like a razor blade.

“Hello, Garrett,” he said. His voice was deep and it boomed outward from his chest. It was intimidating but at the same time it was righteous- hard. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“You have?” He tilted his head to the side, trying to piece this together in his mind. “And who are you, exactly?” As he spoke, he saw more fairies dancing with every syllable. It didn’t frighten him so much as it annoyed him.

“I am a spirit of justice,” he turned away from Hawke and walked in a different direction, arms folded behind his back. Hawke clumsily followed him, watching the world around them transform with every step that he took. Soon he could see a sky and grass. In the distance, he saw a city. “I had hoped to speak with you, but after the Fire Nation attacked I dreaded that I may never get the chance. Yet, you are here. Alive.”

“I’m not sure how,” Hawke huffed. “but I suppose I’m alive enough.”

Justice nodded to himself, staring toward the city on the horizon as the towers seemed to grow taller with each passing second. “As a spirit of justice, it is my responsibility to ensure it. These people you’re destined to save, the people of Thedas, they deserve justice. I expect you to defend them and bring them the freedom that they deserve,” he turned to Hawke. As he looked away from the city, it vanished. In it’s place there was only a forest. “But you are vulnerable. There are dark spirits who will hunt you and attempt to manipulate you. You must be vigilant.”

Hawke took a moment to let this settle with him as he looked across the horizon, watching the trees sway even though there was no wind. “How can I be sure that you aren’t a dark spirit, attempting to manipulate me?” he cocked a brow at Justice, meeting his eyes best he could.

“A good question, but if I intended you harm, Garrett, I wouldn’t be warning you about my existence. Would I?”

He frowned, gnawing the inside of his cheek. “I suppose not, but if so, how do you know Anders?”

“You would refer to it as a friendship,” he hummed. “Our ambitions are quite similar, and thus we have a very unique bond. I am connected to him, as he is connected to me. You might say we are the same, aside from the fact that we present ourselves differently.”

“That’s not what people tend to think of when they hear the word ‘friendship’.”

Justice did not smile or chuckle at Hawke’s asside. He only continued to stare forward, totally unaffected. “Many spirits choose to bond with benders in similar ways. It allows them to influence the mortal world and follow their ambitions. They share a conscious and as two separate parts they can begin function as a whole.” He paused, his jaw visibly tightening. "I came to warn you, Garrett, that is my priority,” he turned toward the area on the horizon where the city had once been, before it vanished completely. “There is a dark spirit hunting you, willing to do whatever it takes to manipulate you to it’s own advantage. Focus on your objectives and do not allow yourself to be distracted. That is when the spirit will catch you.”

Hawke snorted, rolling his eyes and turning away from the spirit. “I fail to understand, then, why you’d bond with a spirit if they’re all so dangerous.”

Justice finally turned toward Hawke, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not all spirits are dangerous," he said. "Some can be very friendly, your only guidance in the Spirit Realm as well as the mortal world. Others, _will_ ensure your destruction. That you can be sure."

"Are you here to help me, Justice?" he quirked an eyebrow at the other. "Is that why you’re telling me all of this?"

"I intended only a word of warning," he turned back toward the horizon, watching the city grow on the hillside once more. "In times where you are the weakest, the kindest and the meanest spirits will come. You have only your intuition to decipher the two." He turned on his heel and strode away, the scenery fading into nothingness with every step he took. "A lot of weight rests on your shoulders, Avatar. If you cannot inspire a change, nothing will."

* * *

Hawke snapped awake, gasping for air and sweat dripping down his temples. The woman who'd been icing his forehead flinched. dropping everything she had in her lap as it clattered loudly to the floor. _”Horsefeathers,”_ she huffed. After a few minutes of glaring toward her mess, she chuckled quietly to herself as she picked it up, wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes. "Oh, my apologies, ser," she cleared her throat, turning toward the other now. "You gave me quite the start."

There were footsteps not far outside the tent, a pair of figures storming through the entrance. “Wynne, you got him awake,” Bethany took the old woman in her arms, squeezing her tightly. “I knew that if anyone could help him, it would be you.”

Hawke slowly sat up, running his fingers through his hair and letting his face fall into his hands. He could still see the dancing lights in the corners of his eyes, moving with the rhythm of the sounds around him. “You give me far too much credit,” Wynne chuckled as she released the younger girl. “These hands may be old, but I do the best that I can.”

Hawke ran his fingers over the bandages on his thigh. These were fresh, completely clean of blood or grime. “Do you think that you will be able to stand?” Wynne asked, taking her patient’s hands.

He considered this for a moment, curling his toes in his shoes. He felt no pain, by nothing short of a miracle, but the subtle fear of falling face first in the snow and embarrassing himself completely was still very much there. “I… suppose.”

The old woman stood, keeping a hand on the Avatar’s forearm. He shook her off, gripping the edge of the bed. Slowly but surely, Hawke was eventually able to get himself up onto his feet. Aside from the occasional ache in his thigh, he felt like a brand new man.

"Ah, good. Very good,” she smiled, putting her vials back into the box she’d removed them from and sealing it with the latch. “Now, if you’re feeling up to task, Leandra has been asking for you.”

"Where _is_ mother now?” Bethany asked.

"She’s lecturing your brother,” Wynne sighed. “She should be in her hut. It has been a long day for her. By the lines around her eyes, I dare say she looks as old as I.”

"Thank you, Wynne,” Bethany embraced her once more before taking the Avatar by the arm, guiding him out of the tent as though he were a lost child. “I’ll never forget this.”

When Hawke stepped out of the tent, he was surprised he hadn’t heard the shouting earlier. Now, it was practically the only thing he could hear. Leandra’s hut was on the far side of the village, not far from the cabin that belonged to the chief. Dog slept in the snow not far from it, absent to the sound of world around him.

Bethany gave a short knock before she pushed open the door, dragging her older brother close behind her. “Mother? Carver?”

"I don’t want an apology, Carver,” Leandra snapped, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “This is _your_ fault. Your sister could’ve been killed, you should have protected her-”

"Ahem,” Hawke cleared his throat, moving in front of Bethany and standing just beside Leandra, tearing her attention away from her youngest son.

“Oh,” the color faded from her cheeks as she looked at Hawke, lips pressing in a tight line. “You’re feeling better, I see.”

"I was told you wanted to speak to me,” he said, keeping his tone level.

"Yes,” she moved past the three of them, pushing her way to the door and out of the hut. Carver and Hawke exchanged glances, but quickly followed suit. She waited for them just outside of Gamlen’s cabin, arms crossed over her chest. Gamlen came out, as if on cue, and stood an awkward distance away from her as if he was afraid to so much as breathe her air.

"So you’ve come to yourself, Hawke,” he observed, narrowing his eyes. “What a relief.” Judging by his tone, he was in no way relieved, if he even cared at all.

”What do you want?” Carver snapped, his cheeks were still hot with rage as he glared toward his mother.

"After the Fire Nation threatened the village on your behalf, Gamlen has decided that it would be in all of our best interest if the three of you went on your own way,” Leandra sighed, looking at her feet. “He doesn’t want to risk the lives of the people trying to protect you.”

"You want us to _leave?"_ his face got impossibly darker, fists clenched at his sides and knuckles white as bone. "You're cheating out your own flesh and blood now, Gamlen?"

"It is for the best interest of the village," he insisted, unaffected by Carver's accusation. "and, might I add, for the lot of you. The only Waterbenders in all of Thedas live _outside_ of Fereldan, if either of you plan to learn the skill you'll have to travel elsewhere."

"I'm not even a bloody _bender!_ I'm a _soldier,_ I've protected this village since I was-"

"Oh come on, brother," Bethany took his arm and wrapped it around her own, pulling him away from the others. "If these people refuse us after all we've done for them, so be it. We're better off without them." She grabbed her satchel from outside the hut, throwing it over her shoulder and grabbing a sword. "Come on, Hawke."

The Avatar stumbled helplessly after her, looking from her to Leandra to Gamlen- unable to process it all at once. Dog gave a disgruntled huff and rose from the snow as they passed, quickly catching up and pressing his snout against his master's shoulder; purring softly.

Hawke felt his heart sink as he stopped in his tracks, turning to face the beast and running his hands over it's massive cheeks. As much as he loved this dragon, he couldn't take him with them. Gods only knew what dangers they would face, especially with the war growing closer to Fereldan borders with each passing day. He'd almost lost his best friend once, he couldn't risk to lose him again.

"I'm sorry, buddy," Hawke sighed, kissing Dog on his nose. "You have to stay here, keep the village safe." He turned away from his friend before he could see the broken look in his eyes, catching up to Bethany as best he could. Dog tried to follow after, but Hawke could hear his heavy footsteps. "No," Hawke called, desperately trying not to look back. "Stay."

Bethany swore she could hear the beast whimpering as it slumped back down into the snow, watching with softening golden eyes as his master and his new found friends vanished into the forestry on the horizon: not daring to look back. 

* * *

"Abandoning your post, failure to complete your primary objective, destroying one of our finest navy vessels by colliding with an iceberg, and, not to mention the fact that when you docked in Kirkwall to repair the damaged navy vessel, your only prisoner, an Earth Kingdom spy, managed to escape and your troops have yet to track his location," she slammed several scrolls down onto the table, rattling the entire room. "These are official documents, Seeker. Demanding that I strip you of your title and throw you onto the streets, leaving you for the rats. This one here? A noble woman from Val Royeaux sent a warrant for your _arrest._ The other? Orlais' demand for financial compensation of the prisoner you 'misplaced'."

Commander Cullen, overseer of the Fire Nation's navy who also stood in the back beside the door, flinched and averted his eyes. Lieutenant Meredith Stannard, second in command to the leader of the Fire Kingdom's military, was one of the most frightening women of all. Compared to Meredith Stannard, Cassandra Pentaghast was a hissing kitten standing before a roaring Armadillo Lion.

Ever since she'd been discharged from her position at the Fire Lord's right hand, she'd been forced to play the role as Meredith's lap dog- doing what ever she pleased when ever she pleased. Cassandra's only job was to impress this woman how ever she could, regardless of her own morality. It was her only hope of returning to the higher ranks again.

"But, to do you credit, you have managed to steal the Avatar's _walking stick,"_ she growled as she held the said staff in her hands. She dropped it on the ground, kicking it to the side as though it meant less than dirt to her. Her hands fell on the edge of the table, gripping the wood as though she were attempting to contain her swelling anger in the best way that she possibly could. She deflated with an exaggerated huff, continuing to pace behind the desk. "You are an embarrassment to your ancestry, Seeker. You do not act on the behalf of your people, your act on behalf of your ambition and it is shameful. You are lucky to be standing here, Pentaghast. I could easily have demoted you to city guard duty or disbanded you from the force _completely._ "

Meredith stilled and leaned back against the wall, taking a moment to catch her breath. "But I will not do that," she sighed, removing her helmet and tucking it beneath her arm, tufts of white hair poking out of the collar of her armor. "Because we are at war, and I require every able body within my grasp. Regardless of past failures."

Cassandra gnawed her cheek, trying her best to hold her tongue. Meredith kept eye contact with her, watching her as a predator watches her prey when it’s trapped beneath her claw. The Seeker cleared her throat, shifting her weight on her feet. “Will you be sending me back to Qarinus, Lieutenant?” she asked.

Meredith scoffed. “As if they would let you across the borders,” she set her helmet down and picked up one of the many scrolls, laying it out across the table. “I have an assignment for you, a second chance for you to redeem your status as well as your ship. Commander Cullen will accompany you and see that you do not act outside of your parameters. If he reports so much as a misdemeanor on your behalf, I’ll have you scrubbing the floors of the Fire Lord’s torture chambers for the rest of your days. Understood?”

The Seeker swallowed, jaw clenched tight. ”Understood,” she said stiffly. “What is the assignment, Lieutenant?”

”A well established priest from Minrathous has lost his slave,” she said, pointing to the writing on the scroll and the sketch of the slave in question. “He’s put a heavy price on this elf’s head, and ever since he’s left the Fire Nation he’s done nothing but cause a world of problems for the slavers. Your assignment is to capture this elf, alive, and return him to his master in Minrathous.” She looked up at the Seeker, watching her expression carefully. “Are you capable of this much?”

She flinched at the insult but nodded. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. _This is a grunt job,_ she thought as she cracked her knuckles. _I’m worthy of more challenge than this._ “Yes, Lieutenant.”

”Good,” she returned the scroll to it’s casing, slipping it onto the shelf she’d pulled it from. “He is called Fenris. Last spotted in the city of Kirkwall. If you are as skilled as you insist, finding him and returning him to Minrathous will be no problem at all.”

Cassandra bit her lip. “But what about the Avatar, Lieutenant?””Excuse me?”

”The Avatar, Lieutenant,” she repeated, raising her voice this time. “What is to be done with him?”

”My soldiers and I are fully capable of pursuing him,” she said as she donned her helmet once more, pushing past Cullen and opening the door. “It is nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

”I am a Seeker,” she snapped, turning and following the Lieutenant out just before the door could slam shut. “My sole ambition is to hunt and capture the Avatar for the Fire Lord. Nothing else.”

 _”Insubordination,”_ Meredith barked, turning to face the Seeker. “Your sole ambition is what I tell you that it is. Nothing else. Once, the Fire Lord may have had you hunting the Avatar. Now? You have lost the respect required for such a responsibility. You will ‘seek’ escaped slaves until _I_ decide you’re capable otherwise. Is that understood, Pentaghast?”

Cassandra ducked her head, her confidence melting into her shoes. “Understood, Lieutenant.”

”Good,” Meredith huffed, turning away from the Seeker and heading back down the empty hall. “You will travel with the Commander in his ship. The both of you are due in the Free Marches within three days time.”

The Seeker watched the Lieutenant disappear with no small relief, counting her steps as she went. She felt as though she could scream and chase after that woman, sinking a dagger right between her shoulder blades. But she was steadfast when a hand clasped around her shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze.

”I would not take everything she says to heart,” the Commander said as he came to stand beside her. He was a foreigner to the Fire Nation in heritage, a blond, burly man born in Ferelden. He was a speck of gold in the mud, quite literally. The Seeker had worked with the Commander for years and he’d always been a friend. He’d been the slow, careful calculating mind while she’d been the brawn, the brash and irrationale.

She huffed and shrugged away from his touch, pushing out the main gates and into the courtyard. This was one of the largest military forts in Orlais, it was where she’d spent most of her time training when she wasn’t at sea. It had become a sort of a home for her, that is, before Meredith got her hands on it.

The courtyard was where all the soldiers were meant to spar or unwind. Now, it stood vacant. She found herself sitting on one of the stone benches, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do not attempt to comfort me,” she said. “The Lieutenant was not irrational in her frustration. I have done nothing but further damage my family name. I should be disbanded.”

“Ah, but you do believe that you deserve more than a grunt job,” he noted, smiling toward his friend who only grimaced more deeply. Why did he have to know her so well? It was no surprise, really. They had been working together for nearly twenty years now. “It was impossible for your forces to contain a bender of that much skill, you were under prepared. That hardly makes you a fool.”

“But what does it make me, then?” she huffed.

“It makes you impulsive,” he said. “Though, this is a mistake you will not make again. You and I take ship, and we’ll make our way toward Kirkwall. Our scouts will snuff out the location of this slave, and his capture will be as smooth as skipping a stone. You need not worry, Seeker.”

“I do hope that you’re right about that,” she admitted, slumping forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “If this results in another failure, I shall find myself farming rice in Ferelden for the rest of my days."

Cullen chuckled, the image of that alone was completely absurd. He could hardly picture it. "Seeker, that will never come to be, I assure you," he laughed. "Come, there are arrangements we must make for our travel." 

* * *

"Do you think they'd let us come back if we told them that a platypus bear broke Hawke's other leg?" Carver grumbled, loudly stomping through the bramble behind them. "Though I suppose Gamlen doesn't have much sympathy for us. After all, now he doesn't have to worry about any of us trying to steal his position as Chief. We can't inherit the leadership if we starve to death in the middle of the forest." 

"Does he happen to have an off switch?" Hawke asked as he looked toward his sister. "Or a mute button, by chance?" 

"Oh, shove all of you!" He snarled. "Go and catch the Blight." 

They'd been hiking through this forest for several hours now, or perhaps longer considering the fact that the sun seemed to be setting. It was hard to tell through the thick canopy of the pine trees. Hawke had only been gone half a day and he'd already missed his companion. He regretted leaving him behind, but he didn't deserve to suffer through this kind of travel. He wasn't built for it. He'd spent his whole life being pampered by his masters and being lazy. Dog was much better off with Leandra in Gwaren and Hawke knew it, but still he couldn't fight the ache he felt in the beast's absence. 

Bethany desperately hoped that they would find a place to stop and make camp soon. She didn't care if they were left out in the elements or if they didn't have a campfire, she merely needed the rest. Her fur boots weren't made for walking on this type of terrain and they were about to give up on her. As much as she despised Carver's constant complaining, she couldn't say that she didn't feel the same way he did. The only person who seemed unaffected by the endless hiking was Hawke, who continued to wear a smile. 

"Just a little further," he said. "Then we can stop and make camp, I promise." 

"Good," Carver huffed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I'm melting back here." 

As much as he knew the others needed to stop and rest, Hawke found himself thinking about everything that _didn't_ involve resting. He thought about the dream he'd had and the spirit who'd called himself Justice. Who'd said he had a special bond with Anders, and it was why he'd looked exactly like him. He thought about the mortalitasi in the room with the animal skulls. He thought about her unique accent and the fear that lit up her features when Hawke asked that she return his staff. He glanced at Bethany just then, noting the dark circles that had begun to form around her eyes.

"Have you ever heard of the Circle?" he asked, breaking the long silence between them.

Bethany turned towards him and she looked at him as though he'd sprouted feathers and begun to sing. "I... sure," she stammered, obviously caught off guard. "I only know stories, but I _have_ heard of it. Why do you ask?" 

He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. "Well, a few people on that Fire Nation navy vessel talked about it, as though it were some kind of prison. I'd never heard of it before." 

"That's because it was formed at the start of the war, almost thirty years ago," Carver added. "You were still in an iceberg." 

"The Fire Nation believes that the art of bending is a sacred gift, one that should not be destroyed," Bethany explained as she pushed branches away from her face, ducking her way through the bramble. "When the war started, they captured and executed any person or group of people thought to be an enemy to the Fire Nation or it's people. If you break the law, you're slaughtered. It's just how they run things, I suppose." 

"But they don't want to kill benders. Regardless of their crime, it became very important that they preserve magic where it still existed for fear that one day it would completely vanish from the world," she continued. "So they created Circles to house felons who happened to be benders. The templars who're too old or too weak to go to war are left behind to guard them and the people with in. I've heard that it's a terrible place, a worse punishment than death to those who are trapped there. Though, I've also heard that it's an opportunity for education and magic training that can't be received anywhere else. As I've said, I only know stories." 

"Do you know if a bender can be freed from the Circle?" he asked, keen with interest now. 

"I don't know," Bethany admitted. "We southerners don't talk about the Circles much, we're too scared the capital might actually like the idea." 

 _"Shh!"_ Carver snatched Bethany by the arm and grabbed Hawke with his free hand. He was so tense that Hawke could practically feel Carver's heart pounding in his finger tips. "Do you hear that?" 

There was no sound for a long moment, just the wind shuffling through the pines and small mammals scurrying through bushes. And then, as if out of no where, they could hear it as clear as day. Foot steps, heavy and clumsy in their pattern. Thick breathing, more akin to animal chuffs than gentle human breaths. Hawke slowly turned on his heel, pulse racing faster with every stick that snapped under his shifting weight. Through the thicket he could see it, a pair of soulless black eyes that bore right through him. It's breath made a soft steam in the chilly air like smoke billowing from a fire.

"Oh _shit."_

Just as Carver drew his sword, the massive creature flung itself from the brush and rose to it's hind legs; baring it's massive teeth as it's roar frightened the birds from their canopy. _"Bear!"_ Bethany screamed as she ducked into the under brush, just in time to avoid a deadly blow from the monster's claws. Hawke spun around, creating a wind shield around himself and Carver, but the bear broke through easily. It raised a massive paw, aiming straight for Hawke. The warrior tackles him, moving him out of the way of the attack as he scrambled to retrieve his forgotten sword. 

He screamed, holding his arms above his head and charged toward the beast. It was not daunted. It only rose once more, snatching his sword in it's jaws and tossing it into the brambles. Carver was quickly knocked off his feet when the bear swung another blow at him. He knew that he'd been cut, but he could hardly sense the pain as he tried to stand once more. Hawke was right behind him with Bethany at his side. 

"You remember what you did to those soldiers on the Fire Nation ship, Bethany?" Carver panted. "That would definitely be useful." 

"I can't!" Bethany pleaded. "I-... I don't even know how I did that!" 

 _"Watch out!"_ Hawke pushed the bear back a few feet with a heavy rush of wind but it wouldn't give them enough time to escape. He moved in front of the twins and jumped upward, using wind below him to push himself onto the bear's shoulders. It gave a furious cry, standing up right and attempting to shake the Avatar off as he tried to use his abilities to rip the air from the animal's lungs.

It grunted feebly and Hawke began to hope that his strategy was working. But, just then, the bear threw himself against the nearest pine, smashing Hawke against it as though he were nothing but a mosquito. Bethany screamed as Hawke fell limply into another patch of brier. Carver grabbed her wrist, pulling her back towards him. "He'll be okay," he insisted. "We can't separate now." 

Bethany nodded, even though every fragment of her being yearned to pull the Avatar out of the bushes and make sure that he was alright. She huffed and pulled a dagger from her belt, gripping it with both of her hands. "Hey!" she shouted just as the bear turned toward Hawke. It gave a low snarl, fur rising on it's hackles. "You're not getting away with that!" 

Carver grabbed his own dagger from his belt, his last resort if something were to happen to his sword. As the bear came barreling toward them, he pushed past Bethany and sunk his knife right into the monster's eye. The cry it gave was so loud that Carver swore it had destroyed his ear drums. It swung it's head, desperately trying to dislodge the dagger but only knocking Carver back onto the ground again. 

Bethany took a deep breathe and tightened her grip on her dagger. "Don't worry, Carver," she whispered. "I've got this." She lunged forward and raised her arms above her head, stabbing the beast where ever she could, attacking blindly. It shrugged her off at first, but she was quick to return to her shoes. She found the monster's neck beneath all it's fat and fur, hoping to finish it once and for all she buried the blade as deep within the beast as she could. Blood splattered all over her forearm and her chest, but the bear was completely unaffected. 

It threw her backwards with a single swipe of it's paw. Carver scrambled up right, grabbing a stick from the ground and running after his sister, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Bethany! I'm coming, hang on!" He stumbled over a fallen log trying to reach his sister, and it was far too late. The bear snatched Bethany's arm in it's open jaws and her screams pierced through the entire forest. Carver swore that he could even hear it echo, a fading siren through the brush.  

"Bethany," he breathed, his heart beat rising to his throat. _"Bethany!"_  

Suddenly, just as Carver had began to fear the worst, the bear froze completely. There was a sound of cracking, like a block of ice being split in half as the bear stood- no, was _pulled_  by some invisible force onto his hind legs. The creature gaped, eyes so wide that they looked like they might pop out of it's skull. Then, just as quickly as the monster had charged from the under brush, it fell lifelessly onto the ground. 

Carver could hardly believe his eyes. He was hardly able to get to his feet just because he was shaking so much. "B-Bethany?" he called as he searched for his sister in the brambles. "Did you do that? Bethany?" He pushed through a tangle of different branches and vines, still holding his stick firmly in front of him as though it were as trusty as a sword. 

He found Bethany sitting with her back propped against a tree, gripping her bleeding arm and quivering just as she was. Beside her stood a stranger, an elf with dreadlocks cascading down his back and around his shoulders, ginger freckles on his cheek bones and the skull of a small bird tapered to the center of his hair line. He glanced up when he heard Carver's footsteps and held his hands up in admission. Just then, Carver could see that his eyes were grey, like stone. 

"I mean no harm, I come only offering my aid," he announced. His accent was strange as well. It was definitely not Fereldan, but nor was it Orlesian or even Dalish for that matter. It was something all it's own, completely otherworldly. "You may drop your weapon," he said as he gestured to the stick. Then, he turned and picked something up from the ground, holding it towards Carver. Upon further investigation, he noticed that the elf was holding out Carver's sword. 

Carver looked toward the stick in his hands and huffed, chucking it onto the ground. He quickly snatched the sword and tucked it into his belt, looking from the elf to his sister with intense suspicion in his eyes. Bethany looked up toward him and gave a tired smile. "He's friendly, Carver, relax," she assured him. "He's the one who killed the bear." 

"He's the one who-? _What?"_  

The man rose to his feet, brushing dirt from his knees and giving a humble bow to Carver. He wore a small leather backpack on his shoulder, made from the skin of an aardvark sloth or something similar to it. "My name is Solas, if you are requesting introductions," he said. "I'm pleased to see you still live." 

"What about Hawke?" Carver questioned, distrust still burning in his gaze. "Where is he?" 

"Ah, yes, the Avatar," he hummed. "he has become tangled in a bit of thorn bushes between those two trees. He may require some assistance in getting out." 

Just as the elf, Solas, said that, Carver began to hear shouting from the bushes just across the clearing that the bear had created with it's entrance. He turned away from the two of them and jogged over to the source, relieved to find Hawke trapped in a cage of thorny branches he'd created with his squirming. The burly man looked up toward his new found brother as a silent, desperate plea. "I promise," he said. "this is just as bad as it looks." 

Carver found himself relaxing a little as he rolled his eyes at the other, bending down and cutting the branches away with his sword. He helped the Avatar back onto his feet and brushed the debris from his shoulders. He was scratched and bruised pretty badly, but otherwise uninjured. Unlike Carver, who had a laceration on his calf that was bleeding down his leg. 

The two of them made their way back over to their sister as Solas began to wrap Bethany's wound. Hawke watched him carefully as he sat down, pulling a thorn out from between his teeth. "How did you do that?" he asked warily. "How did you kill the bear? It was actually a pretty cool trick, if you're willing to share the knowledge." 

Solas chuckled as he finished his work, sitting up so that he could properly face the Avatar. "It is a talent I have come to acquire over the years," he said. "It is a complex form of waterbending where the element under control is not precisely water, but blood. It's quite fascinating. I have yet to learn how to teach it to others, but to discover it's effects and what it can or cannot do is quite extraordinary." 

Carver narrowed his eyes. "So, it's essentially healing? But backwards, because it can be used to cause harm?" 

"You might say that," Solas shrugged his shoulders. He pulled a small bottle from his pack and handed it to Bethany, pressing it into her palm. "You will want to rub this salve on your wound in the morning. It will help tremendously with the pain." Bethany murmured thanks as she tucked it into her sachel. Solas held out his hand to Carver. "Might I have a look at your wound, sir...-" 

"Carver," he grumbled as he approached the elf and took a seat so that his leg could be easily accessed. "Carver Amell." 

"I see, and you are?" he glanced toward the others. 

"Bethany Amell," she smiled. "Thank you for this. If only there was a way I could repay you." 

"Hawke," the Avatar flashed a signature smile. "Garrett Hawke."

A light flashed in the elf's eyes upon hearing the name, causing him to hesitate as he began to wrap Carver's leg the way he had Bethany's arm. "Hawke, you are an airbender, is this correct?" he asked. 

"I am," Garrett sighed, his smile vanishing. "and I assume you want to know if I'm the Avatar too, right?" 

"I only sought to confirm the accuracy of my observations," he stated. "and it seems I was correct." He finished Carver's leg quickly, grabbing a frail wooden staff from the ground and he stood once more, using his staff as a pivot upon which to rest his weight. "Where is it that the lot of you are heading? It is odd that you've chosen to travel this way through the forest." 

"I'd hoped we could reach Sundermount," Bethany piped up. "I wanted to know if one of the Dalish elves there could teach me how to waterbend. Hawke as well." 

Solas considered this for a moment, pursing his lips. "A wise idea. The Dalish treasure magic in a way most human cultures do not. It is very likely that you will find a teacher there that you could not find in Fereldan," he said as he righted his posture, straightening his back. "I am a traveled. I know much about these lands and the people that roam them. If you would allow it, I should serve as your guide to Sundermount. I know a safe route to the Free Marches, and a ship that will take us across the Waking Sea." 

"How are we meant to trust you?" Carver glowered, crossing his arms over his chest. "What exactly do you want in return for this guidance?" 

"I ask nothing in return," he said plainly. "One simply hopes that some day those in power will remember those who helped, and those who did not." He turned towards Hawke and his mysterious gaze almost seemed pleading. "I have saved your lives here today as an act of kindness, and nothing more. If you refuse my help, I shall go on and bother you no further. But, I do say that you will have to defend yourselves alone if you find yourself in another situation such as this. Another hand may prove to be very useful in your venture." 

Hawke looked between the two siblings and back to the elf, taking in all of his features. He wore furs that a waterbender might wear, but his were slightly different. They were worn and extremely aged. Instead of blue as the waterbenders traditionally wore, his furs were a dull shade of green-grey. He wasn't sure how, or why, but he felt as though he could trust this elf. He had, after all, saved their lives. Guidance through these forests and to Sundermount was something that they desperately needed, he couldn't deny that. And he couldn't deny an opportunity like this when it presented itself. 

"Alright," he sighed, holding a hand toward Solas. "I don't suppose we have a lot left to lose." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you're a quarter of the way through the story! Quick thanks to everyone who's stuck with me this far, you're the best! I have big plans for this story so I'm updating as quickly and frequently as possible while still providing you with quality work. In the next few days I should be able to spit out a lot of chapters thanks to Thanksgiving break. We're going to meet a lot more characters with these next few chapters, some that a few of us have really been waiting for. 
> 
> Please comment and leave kudos! It helps more than you know.


	5. The City of Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of the strange elf called Solas, Hawke and company were able to successfully make it across the Waking Sea. The ship takes them to Kirkwall, where they plan to rest before they make passage to Sundermount. Hawke is reunited with an old friend who takes the Avatar to a tavern for the first time, the Hanged Man, where he meets an elven refugee with the strangest markings on his skin.

_**"**  I was burn't out and lost, _

_a dusty bulb in an abandoned lot._

_And the nighttime was the worst,_

_shows you all the things you lost. **"**_

— The Head And Heart

As promised, Solas had safely guided the group to the coast. A small settlement was built there, a home for refugees who sought to escape the war. There was a ship taking people across the sea into the Free Marches, but the boarding cost took all their coin combined. If they previously planned to gather supplies for their trip to Sundermount, there was no hope for that now. Solas said that their luck may have been short, but he had a few ideas that could prove useful. He suggested that they stop in Kirkwall before heading toward the mountains, and the agreement was surprisingly unanimous. Not only did the twins's wounds need serious attention, but some one in Kirkwall may have been able to help them find a trainer.

In their brief travelling together, Hawke learned several important things about this elf who had manifested himself into their presence.

One, that he never spoke about his past. He only told ghost stories of the land and retold ancient legends in ways that made you believe they could've been true. He had a love for history that exceeded in prominence over all his other qualities. It was fascinating, he had to admit that he could have listened to that man talk for hours and hours without once becoming bored. Hawke also noted that he spoke in iambic pentameter, as though he were constantly reciting poetry with his dialect. It was completely otherworldly.

Two, Solas had a rich distaste for the Dalish and the Fire Nation's version of the Andrastian Chantry. He believed that the Dalish were ignorant in their views of elven history. He did not specify how he knew that or where his experience had come from; he only stated that they should be wary toward the Dalish as they are not always welcome to change. In regards to the Chantry, he spoke of the Circles that Hawke had heard so much about. He spoke of the cruelties that occurred within and the ignorance of the Divine in matters of magic. Hawke enjoyed listening to Solas talk, this was true, but he couldn't imagine being the person who'd gotten on this man's bad side.

Three, Solas had absolutely no connections to anyone other than Hawke, Bethany, and Carver. He spoke not of his family or any friends he may have. As far as they knew, Solas had been a lone wanderer his entire life. He'd explored the entirety of Thedas and learned every secret that the soil had to offer without making a single companion along the way. Bethany asked him about this while they were in the coastal village. To Hawke's surprise, he wasn't at all put off by her curiosity.

"I am not alone at all," he had said. "My company is kept in another form, outside of the mortal realm."

"Spirits?" Bethany gasped. "You're friends with spirits?"

"Yes... that is exactly correct."

"As a girl, I'd heard stories of spirits influencing people's minds and making them do evil things for the spirit's advantage. Is that something you fear?"

"Hawke is the Avatar; a spirit lingers within him as we speak. There have been dark Avatars in the past, ruled by dark spirits. If that was not so, then we would have seen no Blight. Do you fear that he will turn against you because of this fact?"

Bethany was silenced by that, unable to gather a solid response. "I-... No, of course not."

"Then it appears we understand one another."

Lastly, Solas was the only person he had ever met who was equally proud as he was selfless. It was impossible to imagine without witnessing it, ambition manifesting itself within genuine altruism. He was very sure of his beliefs and his knowledge, willing to argue his position on a topic until his lungs collapsed. But, in the same breath, he put the importance of others and their needs before his own. It was why he had saved their lives from that bear, and why he offered to guide them through the Free Marches without so much as a copper in return. Even so, something about his aura left something to be pondered.

The ship they took across the sea was full of refugees like them, others in good spirits and other on the cusp of madness after what they'd seen of the war. It appalled the Avatar, mostly because he'd never seen anything like it. People shoved in a small space like livestock, barely given elbow room and left to stand in their own piss until the journey was completed. Now, he understood why the monks had hidden themselves in the cloud. The air benders were safe from the reality of the world below them, safe from the obscenity and the horrors.

They only had to spend a few days on the ship, but that alone seemed like an eternity. Hawke could've sworn that he'd forgotten what fresh air smelled like, and Carver had completely lost the will to complain. He only sat in his spot on the floor, his head buried in his hands. Bethany sat not far from him, doing what she could to ignore the world around her. Solas had somehow managed to disappear in the crowd somewhere, but Hawke had no doubt that he was there somewhere- waiting just as much as the rest of them.

When the ship docked in Kirkwall's Gallows, Hawke had practically tackled his way to the front of the herd just to get that first breath of fresh air. Carver was right behind him, though he was quite literally tackling his way to the front, shoving old women onto their knees just to keep up. They were greeted, however, by the "friendly" faces of Kirkwall's city guard. Carver hesitated as the rest of the passengers swarmed off the dock and toward the crowd of refugees at the gates, and he looked like he was about to explode at any second.

"Andraste save me," he growled, throwing his hands in the air. "Look at them all! They're not letting _anyone_ in!"

Bethany was close behind, wearing a similar expression of dismay. "They can't really do that, can they? These people need help, they need homes."

"They can and they have done it before," Solas mused, crossing his arms over his chest. "Kirkwall was the center of the Fire Nation's slave trade once. Now it is a free city. Even so, these people are no more free than they were. With these political influences, we may as well be in Tevinter."

"They might change their minds if they knew Garrett was the Avatar," Carver scoffed.

"No," Garrett said immediately. "We don't need that kind of attention, not while the Seeker's on my ass."

"Ah, the Seekers of Truth are hunting you?" he nodded to himself, taking a moment to think this over. "That explains why I happened to find you in the middle of the forest, far from any of the roadways." He removed his rather large staff from his back and carried it in front of him as an old man carries his cane when he walked ahead of them. "Come, I have dealt with these types before. Perhaps I will be able to persuade the captain of the guard."

As they got through the hoard, Hawke realized that there were refugees who had made camp here. They looked up at Hawke hatefully, as though he were to blame for the war that forced them out of their homes. By Solas's suggestion, Hawke had worn Bethany's gloves and hid his face with the hood of his robes, as not to draw attention to himself in the city. He knew that to them he was another stranger seeking the same thing that they sought, but this fact didn't lessen the pain of rejection. He was taught his entire life that he would be a hero to these people, now there was nothing he could do for them.

Why is it that a hero only comes to the rescue after the act? He thought. A woman who's raped only recieves justice after the crime had been committed, her innocence soiled by another. This war had already raped this land and it's people, quite literally, taking everything from them that they had to offer and leaving them behind while the wounds were still fresh. It was too late for Hawke to help these people, even if he could. Even if he managed to become a true Avatar, even if he managed to stop this war, he could not return these people's homes to them. He could not return their lost wives or their lost children. He could do nothing to right the wrongs that had already been done.

The Captain of the Kirkwall city guard was a stout man with a strong jaw and thick arms. He didn't seem at all surprised to see them. In fact, he even seemed annoyed. "Get back to the crowd, you lot," he snapped, accent distinctly Ferelden. "The city has enough poor of her own without refutes like you climbin' the walls."

"That is quite the welcoming statement you've got there," Hawke chuckled. "I'm surprised you don't have more friends."

"I'm not here to be your friend, Fereldan," he huffed. "I'm following orders, and orders state that no one gets into the city without proof of coin."

Hawke opened his mouth to say something else, but Solas put a thin hand on his shoulder, silencing him. He moved ahead of the three siblings, offering a humble smile to the gentleman in clads of armor who stood before him. "We don't wish to draw attention to ourselves," he said softly, carefully looking around as he spoke to ensure that no one but the guardsman could hear him. "but the man I am accompanying is the Avatar, and he as well as his companions require entrance to the city."

"Oh yeah?" he got a laugh out of that, blatantly rolling his eyes. "There aren't any more airbenders left, they all died after the Fire Nation attacked. Everyone knows it."

The elf glanced toward Hawke, the look in his eyes asking Hawke for his permission. The Avatar nodded, lowering his head so that the elf could remove his hood. "See?" Solas gestured toward the larger man. "He bares the markings of an airbender. His Avatar spirit must have allowed him to survive the attack on his temple. This is all the proof there is to be found of that in itself. There for he must be the one."

The man was taken breathless. He still stood slack-jawed as Hawke put his hood back on, adjusting the strap around his collar. "I- I... I apologize, ser, I should not have doubted you," he moved to take a knee and bow, as was traditional, but Solas quickly stopped him.

"Remember," he mumbled. "We do not wish to draw attention."

"Ah-... y-yes, of course," the guardsman righted himself quickly. "If I may-... Why have you come here? We have very little to offer some one of... your position."

"Just need somewhere to settle down for a little while," Hawke grinned. "Couple of us got pretty banged up in a fight with a bear a few days ago, need the rest before we head west."

"But, Hawke, we aren't heading we-"

He quickly pinched Bethany's arm, silencing her immediately. "Would you mind?" he continued. "We'll only be around a few days tops."

The guardsman nodded quickly as color gradually began to return to his cheeks. "I'll get you in," he said. "Folks in Lowtown are saying there's a man come to town, a healer. He may be able to help you."

"You're too kind," Hawke cooed, wrapping an arm around the captian's shoulders and giving him a massive hug. Carver could've sworn he saw him kiss the guard's cheek as well. "Is there a tavern around? I've always wanted to go to a tavern."

"I- y-yes," he cleared his throat and moved away from Hawke. "It's called the Hanged Man."

"Brilliant! Lead the way, my friend."

* * *

After the captain of the guard was sufficiently scarred for life, he lead them to the city slums- an area that the locals called Darktown. He left them to their own devices as soon as he walked in, covering his nose with his palm and bidding them good day. Hawke could hardly handle the sight of it- this wasn't what he'd imagined of the city what so ever. He'd imagined smiling, happy people, market places and gorgeous buildings. This was... this was a rat hole. There were homeless citizens sitting beside tents with fires burning of their old clothing that had grown too small. The whole area smelled like bile, it made him want to vomit.

"This was... this-" he stared wide-eyed at the scene before him, not sure what words to use for it.

"Not what you had expected, I presume?" Solas pondered.

"I'd heard such wonderful stories about the city as a boy," he said. "It was a place where all people could come together."

"You have been sadly misinformed," the elf said plainly. "In Kirkwall, no two people have ever been treated equally. More rivalries are made here than friendships."

According to the captain of the guard, the healer had made a clinic out of an abandoned shack that belonged to slavers in the old days. Hawke became suspicious when the guard spoke of a healer. He couldn't help but think of the man he'd met on the Fire Nation ship who'd claimed he too was once a healer. Had he successfully managed to escape not long after Hawke had? He hoped. He desperately hoped that was the case.

"Are you sure that guard knew what he was talking about?" Carver bellyached. "This place doesn't seem very-... redeeming."

"We have to have hope, brother," Bethany sighed. "This is our only chance of recovering from our injuries in time to travel to Sundermount."

Solas stopped in front of a door, just beside it was a lit lantern. There were voices inside, indistinguishable but definitely audible. "This may be our place," he noted as he turned toward the others. "Might I knock?" Hawke gave an affirmative nod. He wasn't exactly sure.

The door opened slowly and Hawke felt his heart leap for the first time since he'd left Dog behind in Gwaren. Any fear he'd had previously vanished in an instant as Anders manifested in the doorway, eyes lighting up at the sight of the other, totally ignoring Solas and the others. "Hawke the normal person," he cooed, pushing past the elf with the dreadlocks and taking him in his arms. "My first friend in over five years, and I never thought I'd see you again."

"I'd hoped you escaped," Hawke grinned. "How did you do it? I was meant to come back for you."

"Ah, there was no need," he stepped back and opened the door, letting the party into his clinic without hesitation. The walls and floors of the institution were made from dirt, but it was considerably clean compared to the rest of Darktown. He took a seat in a creaky wooden chair beside a work table, papers and books scattered everywhere. "When you destroyed Cassandra's precious ship, she had to go to Kirkwall for repairs. The guardsmen were preoccupied, so I took the opportunity. Still, none of them have been able to track me here. It's sad, actually. Considering that _you_ seemed to find me so easily."

"Captain of the guard brought me here," he explained as he took a seat in the empty chair on the opposite side of the work table, taking in his surroundings. "Solas told him that I was the Avatar. He didn't hesitate."

"Ah, your party, I should probably introduce myself," he looked up toward the others, standing up once more. "You may call me Anders. I apologize for the dirt; the place I had in Antiva was much more sightly."

"The grumpy one here is Carver, and this is his sister, Bethany. The elf, Solas, saved our lives out on the road. He's helping us get to Sundermount."

"Sundermount? That's some journey you're voyaging, my friend," he stood up once more and leaned against the table, looking casually amongst the three of them. "Well, if I might be so bold, I'd ask to accompany you on this journey into the mountains."

 _"Another one?"_ Carver groaned. "Please, we don't need this. We just showed up in this place and you already want to take in _strays?"_

"He's the reason I escaped, Carver. He's my friend," Hawke reminded his brother with a smile. He turned back toward Anders, quirking a brow at the healer. "What intrigues you about it, might I ask? You've made a decent enough home for yourself here."

"I suppose," Anders shrugged. "There is a lot of Tevinter-influence here but the city guard is in good hands. I believe they're the reason I've hidden from the Fire Nation as easily as I have. They've protected me because I'm helping the refugees, they're good people. But-..." His gaze fell back to his desk, the forgotten papers and the books left strewn open with pages torn violently from the bindings.

"I've written to Karl. He wants me to come back to Antiva. I didn't mention you, for fear that our letters may be intercepted, but if I am on the move, it will be more difficult for the Seeker to track me. And I-..." he paused again, biting his lips. "I do not wish to face him alone. It's been years. I hate to think it, but when the time comes that I arrive in the Earth Kingdom, Karl may have been dead this entire time and I've been writing to a Fire Nation conspirator hoping to sell me out. I can't help but worry, Hawke."

"It is reasonable that you question the contents of the letters you are receiving," Solas stated calmly. "The Fire Nation is very cruel and heartless in their methods. The pain they inflict is restricted by no morals."

"I would be honored to travel beside you," Hawke assured him, quickly taking his hand and giving it a firm shake; forming a warm smile across Anders' face. "but, my friends here are injured quite badly after that bear attack. Solas did what he could to get them here in one piece, but we're concerned that they won't make it to Sundermount in this condition."

Anders nodded carefully, his focus turning toward the twins as he pulled out chairs for the two of them. "Allow me to take a look," he said.

Carver was hesitant at first, but he sat obediently. Bethany sat without fear, sliding the gauze off of her arm- exposing a deep gash left by the bear's massive teeth. "Solas gave me something to help with the pain," she said softly. "but the wound hasn't even started to close, and it still bleeds. It's been several days."

The healer continued to nod, carefully running his fingers over the wound as to investigate it without disturbing it. "That's a nasty one, for sure," he mumbled. He stood up and grabbed a small bottle of water from the table. He used it to clean out her injury, but she flinched at the pain that it caused. His hand on her wrist held her steady, however, as he continued to work. "May I ask why you're planning this journey? I mean, if I _am_ intending to come along."

"I was the last water bender in Fereldan, we'd hoped that one of the Dalish in the mountains would be able to help us learn the art," Bethany explained, flinching again as Anders continued to work with the wound on her arm. "My grandfather was a bender, but he died when I was a girl."

"The Dalish, huh? I've heard so little about them. I only know that they despise humans and travel constantly to avoid prosecution from the Fire Nation."

"Can you truly blame them?" Solas noted. "Their people have been oppressed for a millenium, to the point where the truth of their ancestry is drowned under the sea of Fire Nation industrialization. As crude and simple as they are, their hatred is not completely misplaced."

"They also cherish the art of bending more than any human culture," Bethany concluded with a small smile. "It's the only hope we have without crossing the Frostbacks."

Anders closed his eyes for a moment, muscles stiffening as he channeled his magic into the woman beside him, pulling the lips of the open wound together and sealing them without so much as a seam. Bethany gasped, running her fingers over the smooth skin and her cheeks began to come alive with color. "That was amazing! How do you do that?"

"I had a good teacher in the Circle," he said simply as he rose to his feet. He turned towards Carver and held out his hand. "You're up."

Carver grumbled but complied, allowing the healer to tend to his wounds. Once he was finished, the result was the same as Bethany’s. There was no scar and no seam left from where the original wound had once been, as though it had never existed in the first place. Carver thanked him under his breath and quickly got to his feet, brushing the dust off his pants and straightening his shirt.

Anders seemed slightly amused by this, but said nothing. He returned to his desk, quickly tidying the mess of papers and books, setting them in a pile at one of the corners. “How long do you plan to stay in Kirkwall?” he asked as he doused water on his hands, cleaning them of dirt and blood. “It’s not exactly a tropical retreat.”

”Good question,” Bethany noted. “How long are we staying here?”

”That is at Hawke’s discretion,” Solas said. “You two seem to be in fine traveling condition after that, but there is no need for haste.”

”Just one night, maybe two,” Hawke assured, a bright smile parting his features. “I just really wanted to go to the tavern.”

* * *

After walking to him to the tavern, Anders reminded Hawke that his clinic was welcome to them for the entirety of their stay, and that he could sleep there if he’d rather not rent a room. He even gave the Avatar some coin to spend while he was there. Carver thought the entire thing ridiculous and stayed behind with Solas and Bethany- who both held a distaste for drinking.

On the way there, Anders had asked why Hawke was so fascinated in the tavern, and Hawke answered without hesitation. “There’s no alcohol in the Air Temples,” he said. “I’ll admit, I got away with some things that I shouldn’t have because of who I was, but I couldn’t get away with everything.”

”What sorts of things did you get away with, exactly?” Anders chuckled.

”Well, in the temples, children are raised by monks. No one is supposed to know who their parents are or who their siblings are. My father pulled strings so that he could be the one who took care of me, and after a while I learned that he was- yknow- my father. I had a sister too that I knew about, she was my best friend. In reality, she wan’t meant to be there at all. Girls were supposed to go to the temple in Ostagar, but my father didn’t want to loose her. She dressed as a boy and told lied about her name. It was the only way we could’ve stayed together.” he said.

“They also don’t let you have any kind of romantic relationship. Monks will pair people from different temples together to have children but separate them afterwards. Sure, we had friendships and we played pranks on people and it was an extremely free lifestyle- just without love or alcohol. I guess they saw those things as sinful, or something.”

Anders nodded, considering this for a moment. “That’s, sort of fascinating, actually,” he said. “Did no one have crushes within the temple? That is a natural human instinct, romantic attraction is not something you can just destroy because you outlaw it.”

”My father fell in love with a waterbender and brought her back to the temple so that she could be a nun, convincing the senior monks that she wished to start a new life there. That’s the most significant thing that’s happened in my knowledge,” he shrugged. “I liked a couple of the other boys occasionally, some of us got crazy over the idea of girls and what girls might be like. You learn to suppress those feelings after a while, and as an adult you never think about it at all.”

”Ah, but what about you?” Anders inquired. “You seem to have quite an interest in these things that your senior monks wished to keep you from doing.”

Hawke laughed at that. “I’m a rebel, I suppose.”

”My my, is the Avatar planning to lay with a woman at this tavern?” the healer teased. “After becoming sufficiently drowned, of course.”

”I don’t know, actually,” he admitted. “I guess I just want to live a little, yknow? I want to know what the world is really like for people on the ground.”

Anders had brought Hawke to the very same tavern that the captain of the guard had mentioned, the Hanged Man. He could hear shouting from the inside just as he stood beside the door and the building itself stunk of vomit and bile. Hawke had never felt more alive than he did at this very moment. He looked down at the coin purse that Anders had handed him, rolling it in his palms and listening to the sound of clinking coins.

He looked toward one of the windows, fixing his hair in the reflection and pulling his cowl over his head, hiding the distinct tattoos on his forehead and using gloves to hide those on the back of his hands. If only his father could see him now, would he be proud? Without a doubt. His father was one of the most rebellious, free-spirited men that he’d ever known and yet he somehow fit in with the other monks. He could imagine the smile on his face as Hawke pushed open the tavern doors, slapping him on the back and encouraging him on.

”W-welcome to the Hanged Man,” a shaky voice called to him as he entered. He looked over to the bar and saw a small, hardy man standing there with a dark beard that cascaded down the front of his chest. Praise Andraste, was that a _dwarf?_ He’d never seen a dwarf in his entire life, only heard stories about their culture and Avatar Aeducan. Now, here he was, a dwarf in the flesh.

He quickly moved to the bar, taking a seat in one of the empty stools and propping his elbows on the counter. As he looked around, he noticed that the bar wasn’t overly crowded. There were small groups of people playing cards at some of the tables, a man with a guitar stood in a corner- singing hastily written ballots to a woman who paid no attention to him, and he even saw a couple laying together on top of a table-... kissing? Is that what people looked like when they kissed?

Hawke turned his attention back to the dwarf and offered a smile, holding out his hand. “Hawke, Garrett Hawke,” he said.

”M-my name Anso,” the dwarf cautiously took the airbenders hand and gave it a shy squeeze before returning his attention to the mug he had been cleaning. “W-welcome to my t-tavern. C-can I get you something?”

“Surprise me,” Hawke cooed, propping his chin on his palm and watching with child-like fascination as the dwarf prepared a drink for him. There was a creaking sound as the stool beside him shifted beneath another person’s weight. He looked up to see an elf sitting beside him, wearing a black cloak on his shoulders that was filthy with blood and torn at the edges. His skin was dark, too dark to be from Ferelden, and his hair was snow white- arranged in a tousled mess around his head.

”F-Fenris,” the dwarf stammered, forcing a smile. “I-it it’s good you’re back in… in one piece.”

”It’s… been a long day,” the elf glowered. His voice was surprisingly deep and it had a distinct purr to it- not like a cat but more so like a sleeping bear. “I’ll need you to pour some of that for me, if you don't mind." 

"You're hardly ever a drinker, Fenris," Anso noted as he handed a glass to Hawke. "C-can I ask what happened?" 

"Just-" he paused, tightening his lips. Eventually, he let out a defeated sigh and slumped his shoulders. "Degrazio, please." The dwarf obeyed, shuffling around behind the counter to find the wine that the elf requested. As he did that, the elf shrugged off his cloak and set it on the counter beside him, grumbling something below his breathe that Hawke couldn't understand.

He looked down at the alcoholic drink in his hands and back up at the elf. He noticed glowing white markings down the elf's chin and into the nape of his chest plate. The Avatar couldn't help but to find himself staring, that is, until he caught the elf looking back. "Something you require?" Fenris narrowed his eyes at the airbender who blushed and turned away, clearing his throat and staring forcibly at his hands as not to find himself lost in the elf's mesmerizing features. 

"I- I uh, so sorry," he cleared his throat again and rubbed the back of his neck absently. "I just... I noticed your... tattoos. Are you- are you Dalish?" 

The elf snorted and turned away from the other, shaking his head. "Hardly," he scoffed. "Forgive me, but I assure you I'm nothing of interest." 

"Here you are," the dwarf quickly handed a glass to the brooding elf, giving a humble nod. "L-let me know if you two require anything else." 

Fenris took a long sip of the wine, eyes fluttering shut and color returning to his cheeks at the taste of it. At that instant, Hawke realized that he was staring again and he turned back towards his own drink, taking a sip. To his surprise, it was the most bitter, vile thing he'd ever tasted in his entire life. It burned as it went down his throat and he choked, free hand grabbing at his throat. How did people enjoy this? It was so awful but in the same breath... he wanted another drink. He had to have more. 

He paused as he moved to take another swig when he caught the mysterious elf, Fenris, chuckling at him. "Too strong for you?" he raised an eyebrow at the burly man beside him.

Hawke could imagine how ridiculous he must've looked, a big man like him heaving after one sip of hard ale. He must've appeared to be some one who would frequent at a place like this, a person who spent his life doing mercenary work just to get by. On the outside, a person would never suspect that he was the sheltered son of a monk who was not only a virgin, but a passive teetotaler. "No, no, I can take it," Hawke assured him, straightening himself as he took another chug. But, his body betrayed him and he winced again, coughing as the foul liquid went down. The elf only continued to chuckle. 

"I see," Fenris hummed. "What is your name, stranger?" 

"I-.. I'm Hawke, Garrett Hawke," he repeated as he had done earlier, smiling at the elf. Why was his heart pounding so hard? Was he drunk? He couldn't be, not after two little sips. "And you're... Fenris, right?" 

"As I am told," he mused as he took a final drink of his wine, handing the empty glass to Anso and thanking him. "Who are you, Hawke? What brought you here?" 

 _'I'm a traveler,'_ he thought instantly. _'and I came to travel down those tattoos of yours.'_

_'What? No! Stop it.'_

He looked down into his drink as though his reflection in the brown liquid would give him the answer to that question. Obviously, he couldn't tell the truth. Not without exposing himself to everyone in the bar and risking discovery and possibly death if the Seeker decided to hunt him here. He cleared his throat for the third time and tapped his fingers on the table, turning cautiously back towards the other. "I'm.. a mercenary," he lied with a fake smile. "I came here looking for work." 

"Hm, wish I could help you. Unfortunate you weren't around this morning, could've used another sword," he stared absently toward the wall behind the dwarf for a moment, chewing the inside of cheek. "No matter. Do you play Wicked Grace?" he turned back toward the Avatar, meeting his amber eyes with his own olive green ones. Fenris had one of those intense faces, where you felt like you just had to look at it or else you'd miss something fascinating. 

"I- yeah, sure, of course," he smiled. "I'll play a hand." 

It was painfully obvious to Fenris that this man had never even touched a deck of cards in his entire life. His effort, however, to portray himself as something that he wasn't was quite fascinating to him. He couldn't have been a slaver or some one who'd sell him out, he was too... too open. He didn't hide the fact that this was his first time in a tavern, not very well. He wasn't a skilled liar like a spy or a slaver might be. It was very clear to everyone at the bar that Hawke the "Mercenary" was one, a very sheltered man, and two, definitely not from Kirkwall or anywhere in the Free Marches for a matter of fact. 

Though, Fenris found himself watching the warriors face. Not to look for cues or try to decipher the quality of his hand, but just to look. After his bought with slavers today, it was clear that the Imperium was at his tail. He would have to leave Kirkwall soon, but that wouldn't help. He was in the crosshairs now, they likely expected him to run. He was trapped in a corner. The only thing that seemed clear was that he would be out numbered within a days time, and he'd be taken back to Danarius to have his brain wiped clean- becoming a mindless, faithful servant. 

He could never allow that to happen, he could never allow himself to be victimized by that monstrosity of a magister. He couldn't tell Anso, the only friend he'd made in his time in this city, but there was only one solution left. Fenris would have to end his own life. It was a difficult decision for him to make, as suicide is a sin in the eyes of the Creators, but what choice did he have? He couldn't allow Danarius to win, he could not return to slavery and yet he was overpowered. He had a decision to make, a decision of his fate, and the Creators had forced his hand. 

These next few days in Kirkwall would likely be his last. What was to stop him from living them to their fullest potential? Before him was a man of broad stature who's goofy smile made his heart do a dance. If he felt this genuine attraction and this was his last night alive, what was to stop him from seizing the opportunity to be with him? Must he always be so collected and reserved, so mysterious? Could he not open himself up for once? Allow inside the company of another, just for one night? 

"Hah! A three of swords, I win!" Hawke threw his hand down on the table, endless grin plastered on his features. "Hand over the coin, Fenris." 

The elf rolled his eyes and put a small purse of change on the table, sliding it over. "I hadn't suspected you to be a man so... capable," he returned the human's smile and gathered the cards from the center of the table, shuffling them once more. "Tell me, do those robes of yours ever... come off?" 

Hawke had to admit, he was taken aback. Was this elf... flirting with him? He could feel his heart pounding all the way up to his ear drums as heat began to swell in his cheeks. He'd never felt this way before, it was so-... exhilarating. He'd never felt so frightened and yet so enticed at the same time. A million different words spun through his mind but yet he couldn't find a single one to say. Nothing could properly describe the way he was thinking and feeling about this sudden change of attitude in Fenris. Had he been staring at him this whole time? Why hadn't he noticed? Was he really _that_ daft? 

Was he- Creators and holy spirits above, was he _turned on?_   He could hardly wrap his mind around the idea but it seemed to him that Fenris might just be asking him about _sex._

Was this the type of sinful temptation that the monks had warned him about his entire life? Was this dark, toned, sharp-jawed elf the manifestation of evil spirits that the monks intended to protect him from? He couldn't stop looking at those tattoos, the way they framed the muscles in his arms and outlined his neck. His white hair, like snow on a mountain top, caressing his forehead and flaying at the corners of his eyes. He was absolutely beautiful in every sense of the word and Hawke was driven completely speechless... but not because he was afraid but because he _wanted_ this. With every fraction of his being, he wanted _this._

He opened his mouth and closed it. He thought he had a response pieced together, something charming and smooth that would win this chance for him, but it vanished as though it had been snatched by the wind. Instead, all he could say was: "Only if you want them to." 

Fenris paused for a moment, obviously just as surprised by this response as Hawke was by the original question. Then, after a few second's silence, he started to chuckle again. The same chuckle Hawke heard at the bar but louder, no longer suppressed. It sent vibrations through Hawke and it felt like a canon had gone off in his heart and in his groin at the same time and everything just seemed to come-... _alive_. "Well, I suppose that's it then," he cooed, clearing his throat in an attempt to still his laughter. "I have a room just in the back, second door to the left. You could join me, if you've a mind." 

Of course, Hawke was not going to pass up the chance. 

In this moment, he realized he'd never truly kissed anyone before. As a child, he kissed another boy when they both were on the cusp of adolescence, feeling things they didn't understand. He was shunned by the monks for it and punished, cleaning up after the bison for a week. That kiss was just a peck, lips brushing against one another for half a second and nothing more. This, this was... this was _so_ much more. 

He'd pinned Fenris against one of the walls and the elf had grabbed his cheeks in his hands, bringing their lips together before the Avatar was even sure what was supposed to happen next. And after that, he just couldn't stop. This animal-like instinct just took over in him and his hands found the other's waist, breathing him in has though he were oxygen and he'd been drowning for decades. He felt warm hands slide up his shirt, roaming his chest and tugging at the hairs. Hawke got the message, pulling away for a moment to remove his shirt so he stood in nothing but his trousers and undergarments. He didn't pause to think that Fenris might see his Airbender tattoos, he only fit himself back up against the elf, kissing him as though his life depended on it. 

Fenris pushed Hawke back, guiding him towards the small, straw-mattress bed at the corner of the room and forcing him to sit. Hawke could hardly keep himself still. Was he shaking? Fuck. He was. Fenris removed his armor rather quickly, not hesitating what so ever to stand as nude as the day he was born before Hawke. He felt his heart stop, almost completely, at the beauty of the man before him. His markings... they were- they were _everywhere_. Along every muscle in his chest and his arms, all the way down his legs and even on his toes. He was like a walking piece of art and Hawke could hardly tear his eyes away. He didn't want to. 

Then, the elf crawled into Hawke's lap, wrapping his legs around his waist and he could feel- he could feel everything. His heart jumped into his throat and he froze as the elf began to kiss his neck, hands still roaming his chest. Fenris noticed quickly that Hawke had stopped moving and pulled back, intense eyes meeting his own. "What is it?" he asked, still not taking his hands off of the other man's chest. Suddenly, Hawke no longer felt alive anymore. He felt sick, like he was going to throw up if Fenris didn't get dressed in less than ten seconds. He turned his eyes away, feeling cold sweat gather on his temples as he tried to find the words to say. 

"I- I'm sorry I-" he swallowed, clamping his hand over his mouth to keep everything inside him from spilling out all over the bed. "Andraste _forgive me_ , you're so beautiful. Creators above, you're the most gorgeous creature I've ever seen in my entire life. I'd-... Holy spirits watching over me, I would _die_ for you. In a... in a _heart beat_." 

"Are you drunk?" Fenris asked, stepping away from him, completely flabbergasted. "A man like you, gone after _one drink?_ Do you need a pail?" 

"I'm sorry," Hawke repeated. Was he crying? Creators, he'd never be able to live up from this. "I'm not drunk, I just-... I-" he wiped the tears from his cheeks quickly, hoping Fenris hadn't seen them. Why did he have to be such an embarrassment? "I've never-" 

"Stop," Fenris held up a hand, silencing the other. "I understand." He grabbed his discarded trousers from the floor and pulled them on, taking a seat beside the Avatar on the bed and resting a hand on his forearm. "I apologize, I shouldn't have acted so selfishly."

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," Hawke insisted, more tears spilling out of his eyes before he could think to stop them. "I wanted this, I wanted you, I just, I'm just..." he swallowed and cursed under his breathe, wiping his eyes again. "I'm fucking terrified." 

"It's quite alright," the elf said softly. "You are allowed to leave, if you wish. I would understand." 

"No, no, I'll... stay," he leaned into the elf's touch, resting his head on his shoulder as his eyes continued to leak all over his face and now onto Fenris's neck. Fenris could only feel ashamed of himself as he watched this gigantic man crying his eyes out on his shoulder. Had he known this would be the outcome, he wouldn't have said anything to this man at all. As he hesitantly wrapped an arm around the sobbing bear, he noticed the distinct blue markings down his arms and on his forehead. How had he not seen them before? They were nearly as prominent as his own and yet he'd turned a blind eye.

"What are these?" he asked, attempting to change the topic to lift Hawke's spirits. "Where'd you get them? These certainly aren't slave markings."

Hawke sniffed again, looking down at his hands as though he'd forgotten that he's had any tattoos at all. "I-... do you not know?" he murmured, awe struck. "It seems like everyone I've met knows what these markings are." 

 "Alas, the life I've lead has been very... sheltered. I've no clue what your markings are."

Hawke smiled a little, looking at Fenris's hands and the markings lining the divets where his bones were and his knuckles. "I... am an Airbender," he said carefully. "The last one. The Fire Nation killed everyone in Lothering, everyone I'd ever known." 

"How did you manage to survive?" he asked, turning so he could look the other man in the eyes. "I was aware that none of the nomads were to escape with their lives." 

He paused, chuckling under his breathe. "I don't know, honestly. I think it has something to do with the fact that I'm the Avatar." 

Fenris froze, looking at the man in front of him in a whole new light. He looked from his beard to his muscles as well as his chubby belly, to the markings on his arms and the hair on his chest. This man was a cry baby and a horrible liar, if he said something like this- he clearly meant it. "I... I have nothing to say to that," he swallowed. "I'm sorry." 

"I said I was a mercenary because I wanted to just be normal," he sighed. "I wanted people to look at me for who I am, not the Avatar. I don't want respect. I don't want the world at my feet. I just want to get drunk every now and then and- and-..." he huffed. "and have a one night stand without making a fuss about it. Just like anybody else." 

Fenris sat in silence, not sure what to say to that. "You may sleep here tonight," he offered,  taking the larger man's hand. "With me, andin the morning I'll be sure the whole tavern believes that we laid together."

When Hawke's eyes lit up it made the elf's heart soften and he felt as though he'd just rescued a baby kitten from the rain. "You won't tell anyone that I-... was afraid?" 

"Never," the elf smiled. "You have my word."

Hawke took the elf in his arms just then, hugging him as tight as he could and burying his face in his shoulder once more. Fenris tensed at this and he almost shoved the larger man off of him, but he kept himself still. It's just one night, he told himself. It wasn't what he'd previously expected for his night, but he could suffer through the Avatar snuggling him for just one night. At least, he hoped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, the best song to listen to when thinking about the very last scene in the Hanged Man with Fenris and Hawke, is 10,000 Weight In Gold by The Head and Heart. This is the song I listened to while writing it and I've listened to it while story boarding everything for their romance in this story < 3 I hope you like! Please leave comments and kudos, I appreciate it!


	6. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast and her friend Commander Cullen Rutherford have arrived in Kirkwall, hoping to find the escaped slave that's been causing trouble for Fire Nation slavers. In the meanwhile, Cassandra hears that the Avatar was spotted at the local tavern. Hawke and friends have to make their escape, before Cassandra and Commander Cullen can catch up to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!!! thanks so much to everyone who follows me on tumblr and left kudos on this work for me <3 this chapter is going to be much shorter than the last, considering it was EXTREMELY long. we're going to reunite with a certain character that we haven't seen in a while, so i hope you enjoy this one! leave comments and kudos if you can, i'll always appreciate it.

_**“** There may be a great fire in our soul; yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke. **”** _

― Vincent Van Gogh

When he woke up that morning, Fenris was rather surprised to see that the man he’d met the night before was absent from the bed beside him. As he looked down at the empty bed, there was an imprint there of where he’d been- proving that Fenris had indeed met the Avatar last night and had indeed made an attack on his virginity. He groaned loudly, burying his head in his hands.

In all honesty, he had no clue what to think. In his time as a slave, he’d only heard whispers of the Avatar and what exactly that meant. He only knew that the Avatar was the master of all elements, and that he was wanted by the Fire Nation. Was he meant to be the hero? Is that why the Fire Nation wished him killed so badly? Or was he truly a villain, and the Fire Nation had been right about him and those like him all along?

He couldn’t put it together. The man that had manifested himself in the Hanged Man that night was not a villain nor a hero. A hero would not find himself hiding in a tavern rather than inspiring the masses, but a villain would not have allowed Fenris to see him cry the way he had. Hawke was just… a person. The only thing that seemed odd about him was that he was a grown man, brought to tears just by being intimate with another man for the first time. He had to admit, he was slightly flattered by it. Whether Hawke’s words were a result of alcohol or dumb honesty, he couldn’t shake them.

 _Andraste forgive me, you're so beautiful,_ he'd said. _Creators above, you're the most gorgeous creature I've ever seen in my entire life._

And worst of all, Fenris hadn't minded when he laid beside that man until he fell asleep that night, holding him as best as he could, though rather awkwardly given his massive size. A person might think that he'd awaken at the sound of such a massive creature hauling himself out of that tiny little bed, but he couldn't remember waking at all. Only that one moment Hawke was there, and then he was not. If not for the smell of him on the pillows and the imprint on the sheets, Fenris could believe that he'd never been there in the first place. 

There was a loud rasping at the door that made Fenris nearly jump out of his trousers, sitting up so quickly that he smacked his face against the wall. "F-Fenris?" A shaky, yet familiar voice called. "S-some one asked me to bring this to you. They were dressed up real fancy, might've been from Hightown or something. T-they said they were making a delivery." 

He cursed under his breathe, rubbing his forehead absently for a moment as he attempted to wake himself up. A delivery? From Hightown? By order of whom? He groaned as he came to his feet and pulled on his shirt, not bothering with his armor for the moment as he answered the door for Anso. "What is it?" he grumbled, rubbing his eye with a free hand. Then, before Anso could answer him, he saw it. It was... it was a bouquet, a bouquet of flowers- roses, specifically. He gaped at the dwarf, unable to move as he stared at the beautiful flowers and the gears inside his brain seemed to forget how to continue turning. He'd never seen these flowers before, certainly not during his time as a slave and never on the roads as he traveled to escape his prosecutors. What kind of coin did it take to get these? And, more importantly, who sent them in the first place? 

"There's a card right here," Anso said as he lifted the flowers above his head and gestured to a small roll of paper dangling from the bouquet, tied to a piece of string. "Maybe i-it says who these are from." 

"Thank you, Anso," Fenris gently took the flowers from him, suddenly overwhelmed as the smell swam up his nostrils and warmed every fiber of his being. "I appreciate it." He looked down at the slip of paper, holding it between his fingers. "Wait, Anso-" the dwarf stopped where he stood, turning to face the elf once more. "Can you read this to me? I can't-"

Anso eyed the other for a long moment before nodding, not questioning as he took the small roll of paper between his fingers, easily pulling it free from the string. The handwriting was sloppy but legible, hastily written. He read it aloud:

_"I used the coin I won playing Wicked Grace to get these for you. I guess it's a kind of apology for how last night ended up. I don't know you, where you came from, or what brought you to Kirkwall, but ~~I'll never forget~~     ~~You're so beauti~~     ~~I hope I'll see you-~~    I'm glad that our paths crossed. It's very likely that I'll never see you again, and I cannot tell you where I am going. I'm being hunted as you read this, it's why I left without properly saying good bye to you. All I can tell you is that I am leaving Kirkwall, soon. I hope that your days treat you kindly, and that these flowers reach you safely. Thank you, for everything._

― Hawke

_P.S. When you tell the story about last night, would you mind saying that I was really buff? Don't want the populace knowing I've still got fat to trim off. : )"_

"Thank you, Anso." he said, long after the dwarf had finished. "That's all I needed." As Anso finally departed, Fenris looked at the flowers in his hands and the note that Hawke had left him. He couldn't help but feel completely dreadful. This was the kindest gesture that anyone had ever offered him, and yet Fenris had planned to use this man for his own advantage, to manipulate and discard him like a coward, a fool. He tossed the flowers into the waste bin beside his bed, tearing the note and discarding it as well. He didn't deserve Hawke's gratitude, nor had he deserved to be in the Avatar's presence that night. If the Creators had sent Hawke to the tavern that night to meet Fenris, to convince Fenris that life held more promise than it appeared, then he'd ruined it for himself.

Fenris pulled his armor back on from where it lay on the floor and gathered what he could of his things, including the key to his room, and shoved them in his leather knapsack; tossing it over his shoulder. Anso was at the bar, as expected, telling an unbelievable tale to a woman in a vein attempt to impress her as he continued to clean various drinking glasses. Fenris put his key on the counter, as well as a handful of coins. "I'm leaving," Fenris said plainly as he walked toward the door. Anso opened his mouth to speak, but Fenris cut him off before he could get the chance. "Just... keep the change." And, with that, he was gone. 

* * *

It took over three days for Cassandra and Commander Cullen to reach the Kirkwall docks. When they did, they were greeted by a swarm of refugees, fleeing Fereldan and searching in the Free Marches for an escape from the war. She couldn't say that she didn't get a thrill out of the way people looked toward her in complete terror as she exited the ship, Cullen close behind her. She did enjoy it, quite a lot, actually. It made her feel powerful and deadly, as though she were a widow amongst those she'd trapped in her web. A templar straightened as soon as he saw them and recognized the colors on their uniforms, face going completely white. 

"The Free Marches has no quarrel with your leaders, m-milady," he said. "May I ask why you- you-" 

She silenced him with a single gesture of her hand, pulling the scroll that Meredith had given her from her belt and holding it toward the guard. "We are here to capture and return a Tevinter magister's lost property," she said, though her statement sounded more akin to a demand. "I have been given orders by the Lieutenant Commander Meredith Stannard of Ostowick to enter your city, capture this slave, and return him to his masters. We reserve the right given by the Fire Lord to strike down any and all who interfere. We reserve the right to investigate the presence of wanted criminals hiding within your city if a warrant for their arrest is present. Is that clear?" 

"Y-Yes, milady," the guard nodded. "C-come with me, my captain will see you into the city." 

As the shaken guard clambered away from them and toward the steps up into the Gallows, Cullen chuckled under his breathe. "You have this process down to a science, don't you? I'm surprised you remembered the rite." 

"I am a Seeker, it is what I have done since I was a child," she replied. "As a teenager, I did this for a living. I hunted escaped slaves, I hunted criminals, I hunted rapists and all those who were deemed as scum by the Fire Lord. I was not assigned to hunt the Avatar until after I turned sixteen, and as you know, that only resulted in my family's exile and my brother's murder." 

"Well, I'm sure this won't end _quite_ as badly. Remember, that was nearly thirty years ago." he hummed. "As you said, Seeker Cassandra, this is grunt work. We shall be in and out of Kirkwall in no time with an escaped slave in chains. Meredith will be forced to put you in her forces to hunt the Avatar, you are the one who discovered his original location, after all." 

She sighed and shook her head, hardly able to wrap her mind around the idea. "I pray that you're right," she concluded. 

The Captain of the Guard was a much sturdier man than his guardsman had been, but he too tensed at Cassandra's approach. She could tell by the way he clenched his jaw, gnawing the inside of his cheek. He said no words of protest as he lead the two of them into the city, spitting them out in Lowtown- the most densely populated part of Kirkwall. "Slavers have been in and out of the city trying to capture this elf," the captain said as they walked. "So I must say that I'm not surprised at all by your arrival, Seeker." He stopped at the bizarre, folding his arms behind his back and giving the Seeker a respectful salute. "As far as I know, he rents a room at the Hanged Man, that would be the best place to start." 

"Thank you, Captain," Cullen returned the salute and crossed his arms. "We appreciate your assistance." 

The tavern in Lowtown was just what Cassandra expected, and feared. It was disgusting, in every way imaginable, the smell made her skin crawl the very second she walked in the door. She kept her composure as best as she could while Cullen, on the other hand, seemed as though he was right at home. A jittery dwarf stood behind the front counter, and he looked as though he'd pissed his drawers when he caught sight of the two of them. "I- uh, W-Welcome to the Hanged Man," he forced a smile though the visible fear in his eyes deceived him. "How can I help you?" 

"We're looking for an elf who is said to have rented a room at this establishment," Cassandra said, handing her scroll to the dwarf. "He is the property of an established magister in Tevinter, who would like very much to see him return." 

"If you help us find him, no one has to get hurt," Cullen added, trying to play the part of the "good cop" as best as he could. "Understand?" 

Anso, the dwarf, swallowed loudly and looked between the two of them. He only seemed to shake even more now, hardly maintaining hold of the filthy rag in his hands. He looked down at the scroll and paled, running his fingers over the illustration of the elf- clearly recognizing him. "I- I wish I could help you," he stammered, looking up at the Commander with pleading eyes. "He left this morning. He just-... g-gave me his key and left me all the coin he had in his pockets. I don't know where he is n-now. But if I did, I would _certainly_ tell you! Honest." 

Cassandra frowned, obviously not happy with this answer what so ever. "When did you last see him? Before this morning." she prodded, trying to keep her tone as level as possible. As skittish as this dwarf was, she would clearly get nowhere by scaring the day lights out of him. "Who was with him?" 

"Well... uh," he paused for a moment, looking away from the scroll and setting his rag down on the counter. "He came in late last night, looked like he'd been in a bit of trouble. I asked him if everything was alright, but of course, he brushed me off. He came in not long after a strange man had come in to sit down, he was some one I'd never even seen before. In Kirkwall, you get to recognize faces. You know who's local and who... i-isn't. Wore a hood to hide most of his forehead and had gloves on his hands. He was a grown man, huge, but couldn't handle one sip of the ale I handed him. T-then Fenris had some wine, and he's never much of a drinker. That's h-how I knew that... well that he'd had a kinda bad day. The two of them played Wicked Grace and eventually d-disappeared into his room. Then... there was t-this morning..." 

"May we search the room that this elf had rented from you?" she asked immediately, not even allowing Cullen a moment to think this over. 

"Oh, uh... sure! H-here's the keys. It's in the back, s-second door to the left." 

The Seeker snatched the keys and marched across the establishment toward the back where the rented rooms where and Cullen let out a loud sigh, softly thanking the dwarf and leaving a sovereign on the counter before quickly catching up to his friend. As soon as it was unlocked, she practically yanked the door off it's hinges. There was a new rage swelling inside her, a new passion that he could see just by the fire in her eyes. This wasn't just about finding some lost slave anymore, she had something completely different on her mind. "Cassandra," he said as he came behind her, watching as she hastily searched the room for... what? He wasn't so sure anymore. _"Lady Cassandra!_ What in Andraste's name has gotten into you?" 

She stopped for a moment to breathe, running her fingers through her hair as she tried to put her thoughts into words. " _Think,_ Commander," she insisted, turning towards him now. "A strange man, clearly not local. Grown, brawny in appearance but had never drank and had no tolerance for even mild ales. He wore a hood that hid his forehead, gloves that hid his hands. There is only one cultural background a man such as that would come from and never even smell alcohol. And, why the hood and gloves? What was he trying to hide, Cullen? What was beneath that he could not allow _any_ stranger to see?" 

The Commander pondered this, and in that instant it all seemed to come clear to him. "He is an air nomad," he deduced. "Air nomads reject most pleasures of other cultural lifestyle, particularly sex and alcohol. It would make sense that he couldn't handle ale, he'd never experienced it before."

"Yes, and he was hiding the markings, Commander," she confirmed. "The markings that mark a master of airbending." She turned toward the waste bin beside the bed, tearing out a discarded bouquet of flowers but stopping when she found several torn bits of paper, scattered at the bottom of the pail. She knelt on the ground, setting them out before her and trying to piece them together to decipher the words written on the pages. "He _was_ here!" she gasped and her features only seemed to brighten even more. "This is all of the evidence right here, Commander. Read it. 'I'm being hunted as you read this.' 'I cannot tell you where I am going.' I should have known he would wind up here with that Earth Kingdom prisoner, after he'd helped him escape the first time. I was a fool to think otherwise." 

"It's signed Hawke," Cullen noted, kneeling beside her to observe the note. "So, now our Avatar has a name." 

She was silent for a moment, observing her work. Then, she took the papers and stuffed them into the satchel on her belt, standing up right with her shoulders stiff. "Rally your men, and tell them to mount their birds," she said. "I want them to set fire to the Gallows and every exit to the city. He will have no chance for escape this time, not while I breathe."

"That's a very brash decision, Cassandra," Cullen argued as he came to his feet. "You'll force the Free Marches to declare war against us just as the Earth Kingdom has already-" 

"I do not care," she barked. "After everything this man has done to me, after everything his kind has done to Thedas, I will see him captured and killed if it is the very last thing that I do." 

* * *

 "So, I take it your first night in a tavern was well spent?" Anders asked with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair. 

"I can hardly believe how sheltered a life you've lived," Bethany sighed. "The air nomads must lead... a much different life, than we do." 

"We still have fun," Hawke assured her. "We just do it with pranks and fun, competitive games. We are taught that alcohol and sex for fun are sinful pleasures created by dark spirits to make you forget where true pleasure was meant to exist: in companionship, jokes, and sport. That's all."

"So, we can move on then?" Carver asked, standing up and looking between the three of them. "We can take our leave?"

Hawke opened his mouth and then shut it. He couldn't help but feel like he should stay, just a little bit longer. He could make an excuse that he didn't feel well and sneak back to the tavern, see Fenris again. Ever since this morning when he'd gone to Hightown to purchase the flowers, he'd been unable to stop thinking about that elf. Images of his intense green eyes flashed through his mind on repeat, his broad, taut chest and the beautiful markings that lined it- glowing like shooting stars across an empty black void. At the same time, he knew that he couldn't stay here any longer. He needed to get to Sundermount, Bethany needed to get to Sundermount. It wasn't just about him anymore, it was about Bethany, and Carver, and his two new friends as well.

"Yes," he sighed, looking down at his hands. "I think that would be the best choice."

"Hawke, before we go, might I have a word?" Solas stepped in the doorway of Anders' clinic. He'd been gone most of the morning, spending his time with some of the potion makers in Lowtown and trying to make some coin by selling his wares. Most dismissed him and his strange concepts of healing, as well as the ground-breaking herbal remedies he'd recommended to them. Anders, Bethany, and Carver looked at each other at once, and Anders nodded to Hawke. He said something to the others that Hawke didn't pay attention to and they walked out of the clinic, leaving only Hawke and the long-winded elf behind.

"What is it, Solas?" he asked as he turned in his chair to face the other, resting his elbows on his knees. "Is something the matter?" 

"No, it is not that, it is simply..." he paused, staring into the human's gaze for several long moments- not saying a word. "I would like to remain at your side as we arrive on Sundermount. In my journeys through the spirit realm as well as the mortal world, my assistance would prove quite useful to you. When a person tries to explore the spirit realm, he or she can only witness as much as their mind allows- so the more you travel and learn, especially as you learn from others, a dreamer can begin to see more. It is quite fascinating." 

Hawke smiled a little, raising an eyebrow at the elf. "Are you sure your only interest lies in the spirit realm? You don't want to tag along just for the sake of... you know, tagging along?" 

"Are you asking me whether or not I enjoy your company?" he said, returning the human's smile. "Much still remains to be seen in you, but I can see that you are pure and you are genuine. You are open minded, always willing to learn even when you cannot understand. I admit, I am usually one to believe that most humans are ignorant, simple and crude. After encountering you and your sister, I see that I was mostly incorrect. However, I also know that you are this world's only hope. If the Fire Nation takes control of Thedas as it intends to, we are all doomed; regardless of origin." 

The Avatar nodded, opening his arms to embrace the elf and express his gratitude the only way that he knew how but instead he hesitated, choosing only to hold out his hand. The elf seemed grateful at this, his shoulders finally relaxing as he squeezed the humans hand and gave it one firm shake. But, before either of them could say anything else, Carver came bursting through the door of the clinic, sweating and panting as though he'd been running for his life. "Hawke, we have to get out of here," he wheezed. "Everything... everything is on fire." 

 Hawke's heart sank, but he didn't hesitate to follow Solas and Carver back out of the clinic and into the street. Immediately he was struck by the smell of smoke, filling his throat and his lungs. He couldn't even recognize Darktown anymore, the fire had consumed everything in sight. "Come on!" A harsh hand took hold of Hawke's forearm, tearing him from his fixed position and dragging him behind Carver as he ran. 

"How did this happen?" he panted, trying his best to keep up. "Where are the others?" 

"It's the Fire Nation," Carver shouted back. "They're just ahead. Hurry up! Can't you run any faster than that?"

"Why would they attack here?" Solas questioned, keeping up much better than the Avatar was. "The Fire Nation has no war with the Free Marches."

"I suppose they do now," Hawke scoffed.

Carver drug the two of them into a back alley, just as what was left of some poor merchants shop came crashing down on the ground behind them- exploding with sparks and fresh embers. Ahead of them was the lift up into Lowtown, but it was blocked off by two Fire Nation soldiers, preparing to set it aflame. Hawke knew he had to act fast, or they'd be trapped here until they suffocated in this smoke. "Hey!" he shouted, waving his arms above his head. "What do you think you're doing?!" 

The firebender gasped, staring at Hawke as though he could hardly believe his eyes. His gaze hardened quickly, however, and the fireball in his hand was then targeted at Hawke instead of the lift. "It's the Avatar!" he shouted.

Hawke dodged easily, pushing a wind current around himself to guide it toward the stone wall, where it vanished in a single pitiful puff. He nodded to Solas, who got into position without second-guessing, bending at the knees and extending his hands before him, turning his wrist slowly as though he were turning a cog in a machine, the firebender becoming limp as a doll. He let out a cry of pain, but the second soldier was not daunted. He charged, sword drawn, straight at Solas. 

Carver quickly intervened, using the handle of his sword to knock the soldier's free of his hand. "Get on the lift, Hawke!" he shouted without looking back, driving his sword straight into the soldier's chest. "We don't have much time!" 

Hawke obeyed immediately, clambering on the lift and turning the crank that would take them up into Lowtown where, hopefully, they could escape. Carver pulled himself up as it began to lift away, Hawke taking his arm and yanking him on board. Solas reached out his hand for Carver to grab, but just as he did so- the soldier that Carver had stabbed rose to his feet again and tackled the elf, forcing him down onto the dirt. "Solas!" he cried, releasing the crank and poking his head over the edge. They had just made their way up into the shaft, and they were over 5 feet above the ground. It would be easy for troops to take them out where they stood if they caught up to their brethren, but not Hawke nor Carver could leave the elf behind. 

Solas shoved the soldier off, resuming his stance and wiping blood from his chin. A new light shone behind his eyes as he put his put his palm out and formed a fist. The soldier let out a horrible scream, collapsing in on himself as the blood from his open wound began to pool out of him- forming a snake of red floating in the air above him- as though Solas were simply water bending rather than draining the man of his life force where he stood. Then, before Hawke could say a word, the man's face became as purple as a grape and he fell to the ground, blood falling down on top of him like rain. The elf didn't waste another moment then, he grabbed a hold of Hawke's outstretched hand and clambered on to the lift.

"Turn, turn!" Carver demanded, grabbing hold of the crank just as Hawke did and helping him push. "We have to catch up to the others before it's too late!" 

In reality, Hawke feared that the lift would never be able to get them up fast enough. They still had to find a way out of this city that the Fire Nation hadn't already blockaded. If they were here because they knew of Hawke's presence, they'd know exactly what kinds of tricks he might pull. He stood no chance, there was no way that the Seeker would let him out of her grasp. "She won't lay a bloody hand on you," Carver snapped when Hawke posed the question. "We're getting out of here, brother. All of us." 

As they arrived, he quickly realized that Lowtown was in a much worse state than Darktown, if that was even possible. He watched in wordless awe as a group of civilians, screaming for their lives, came rushing past them- hiding their faces in their arms as if that would some how save them from their fate. Beside one of the burning buildings, a woman stood beside the charred body of her child. It was just a boy, not much older than Hawke was when he'd first learned that he was the Avatar, and what that meant. His whole body was black from the flames, arms and legs limp- chest no longer rising and falling. He couldn't tear his eyes away as the watched the woman shake her boy, sobbing as she did everything she could to wake him, though he would not wake up. Ever. 

"Hawke, we must go," Solas whispered as he gripped the Avatar's shoulder. "Carver says that the others aren't much farther. They could be in trouble, and we must help them." 

He was deaf to everything Solas said to him, watching the crying mother as she buried her face in the neck of her dead son. She gripped him as tightly as she could, rocking gently back and forth as though she were lulling him to sleep. He swore he could almost hear her singing as she sobbed. No, not singing: chanting, praying.

 _"Spirits of life, of water, fire, earth, and sky; may you hear me, as his life may pass into the next,"_   she paused to bite her lip, hands shaking so hard that she could hardly keep her son in her arms. _"A-as his soul abandons this vessel, from your emerald waters may his life begin anew with freshness and purity but without sin and without greed. Andraste may you take him into your arms. For in your arms lies eternity. Let your cries touch our hearts, may yours... may_ yours _have been the last sacrifice. May those who wrong be wronged in return, and those who right be righteous. Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of spirits of life who bless us with our days. Field and forest shall burn, the seas shall rise and devour them, the wind shall tear their nations from... from the surface of this world."_ She let out another heart wrenching sob, throwing her head back and looking toward the sky, though the nighttime stars could not be seen through the smoke. _"Shall they cry out to their apostasies and find silence!"_

Just as she came to finish her prayer, Carver snatched him by the arm once more. Though he could no longer see it, the image of the woman's contorted, sobbing face was carved into his mind. He couldn't stop seeing that little boy, what was left of him. This was his fault. If it weren't for him, that woman would not have lost her son. This city would not be in flames. Innocents would not be trapped here to burn to death or suffocate as smoke took up all the fresh air that could've been left. However, just as promised, Bethany and Anders were waiting for them in one of the alleys. They were ducking behind several empty barrels of rum for cover from the passing soldiers, sitting with their heads held high upon their ostrich horses. As though they were proud of what they had done, as though this was an achievement for them. 

"You three aren't in pretty shape," Anders noted as he looked them over, chuckling under his breathe. "What took you so long? I told you to meet us here as soon as you got Hawke and Solas." 

"Is everything alright?" Bethany asked. "You didn't get hurt, did you?" 

"Had a scuffle with a couple of soldiers on the way here," Carver replied in a whisper. "Wasn't any trouble. We don't have a ton of time to waste, though." 

"Well, you see, I think I might have a plan," Bethany said quickly, her eyes lighting up briefly. "You see, if we stay down here, we can't see a thing through the flames. If we get on top of one of these buildings- we can see the whole city. We can make an escape route!" 

"Smoke rises," Solas argued. "If we climb up there, we'll suffocate." 

"My, wouldn't it be convenient if we had an airbender on hand," Anders cooed, turning to Hawke and elbowing him gently in the side. "Come on, Hawke. What do you say?" 

Hawke didn't answer for a long moment, honestly completely unaware of what the four of them had been talking about this entire time. He only looked between them, completely doe-eyed. Anders sighed, giving his friend a squeeze on the shoulder. "Hey, you can't be getting psyched out now," he said, offering a smile. "If you want to save these people, we have to get out of here. The Fire Nation will follow our trail and leave the civilians alone. It's the only thing you can do for them now." 

The Avatar considered this for a moment, looking down at his hands. "Okay," he huffed, rolling his wrist and forming a small sphere of swirling air in his palm. "Let's do this." 

With much effort, Hawke was successfully able to create a bubble of fresh air around the lot of them as they worked together to climb up the side of the building just beside the alley they'd been crouching in. Hawke had been the first to reach the top, using his airbending ability to his advantage. Bethany was a natural at this, as though she'd been climbing her entire life. Solas and Anders were doing just was well. Carver, however, was lagging behind and cussing under his breathe as his grip seemed to stutter with every step higher. "We're getting close," Solas said, looking up towards the roof where the Avatar sat, waiting for them. "Only a little bit more, now." 

"E-easy for _you_ to say!" Carver snorted. "You're ahead!" 

"You can do it, brother," Bethany assured him. "Keep on pushing." 

He continued to grumble something under his breathe, but she chose to ignore it. The first of the climbers to reach the top was Bethany, as expected, and Hawke quickly hauled her upward. Solas easily helped himself, but he quickly turned around to take the healer's hand as he began to slip from the ledge he stood on- nearly falling over fifteen feet back down to the ground. Hawke continued to keep their bubble free of smoke for now, but as the fire below grew larger, the smoke only became thicker. Bethany came to the edge of the roof, holding her hand out to her brother as she continued to cheer him on, despite the fact that he was several feet behind. "Keep it up, Carver," she shouted. "I'm right here." 

"Get back!" Carver huffed. "I've got this, I don't need-" The breathe was knocked out of his lungs as the window ledge below his foot broke under his weight, disrupting his balance and sending him downward. Bethany let out a horrified scream, but luckily her brother had snatched hold of the window just above his head, dangling from only one hand. 

"Carver!" she shouted again. "Hang on! I'm coming to get you!" 

"No, Bethany!" he shouted back, gritting his teeth as he looked at the ground below. Creators, how long had he been this high up? "I- I've GOT this." 

"You don't! You're going to fall!" She threw her legs over the edge and found a ledge for her feet, now low enough that she could reach Carver's hand. "I'll get you!" 

"C'mon, Solas, grab Bethany's arm!" Hawke huffed as he looked down at the two of them, doing everything he could to maintain their barrier. "You too, Anders! They'll die if they fall down there!" 

They acted obediantly, Anders snatching the girl's arm and Solas also taking hold. Carver, however, still hesitated as he looked up in fear- his hand beginning to slip from the ledge. "I- I can't," he whimpered, voice finally starting to crack. "I'm just going to have to let go, Bethany. You have to let me go." 

 _"Never,"_ she growled. She pulled downward, extending toward her brother as far as she could reach. Then, in the blink of an eye, she snatched hold of Carver's wrist and pulled his hand from the ledge. Carver yelped, waiting for the eminent fall but.. there was none. Bethany had _caught_ him. "I'll _never_ let you go, brother," she said. 

Effortlessly, the two remaining boys pulled the twins back up onto the roof. Carver shrugged them off, brushing off his shoulders and fixing his shirt absently. Bethany cocked an eyebrow, crossing her arms and watching her brother expectantly. He frowned, glaring at her for a long moment. Then, he sighed and threw his hands in the air, rolling his eyes. "Thank you for saving me, Bethany," he mocked. "I could've handled that myself." 

Bethany laughed. "I'm sure you could have, brother." 

"There, by the docks," Hawke finally spoke up, pointing across the horizon past the Gallows. "It's the Fire Nation's only escape route, so they haven't burned it down. Look."

Anders came up behind him, following his gaze. "So, you're saying that in order to avoid getting stung by the hornets, we run straight into the nest?" 

"No, we swim," Hawke said.

Anders laughed, but telling by Hawke's expression- he wasn't joking. At all. "That's _insane,_ Hawke," the healer sighed. 

"We can't burn to death in the water," the Avatar argued. "The shoreline outside the city isn't too far. Once we get past the wall, we're home free."

"There has to be another way, Hawke," Anders insisted. 

"Well, if you have another idea, make it quick. I can't keep this up for much longer and we're likely drawing a lot of attention to ourselves up here." 

The healer sighed loudly, looking around the horizon for something, anything, that could spark an idea. "Hey, look at Hightown. Just outside the Chantry there's a stairway that leads out into the Wounded Coast. It's not as hot as everywhere else. We can make our escape there and head towards Sundermount without having to stop and dry off our clothes."

"I say we take option B," Carver sighed. "It's a longer walk, I guess, but I say it's worth it."

"Solas?" Bethany turned to the elf, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think?" 

He was silent for a moment, looking past Hawke toward the part of the city that was Hightown. "I think that it is plausible," he nodded, as though confirming that with himself. "Much more plausible than running straight through the hoard and hoping they won't follow us into the water." 

Hawke huffed loudly and crossed his arms. "Alright, alright, but let's go now. Before the smoke gets to us." 

* * *

Fenris had gotten as far as the Merchant's Guild in Hightown before the sky had been blotted out by the smoke. He drew his hood, hiding his face as much as possible from the crowd of noblemen and dwarves rushing to save what ever they could from the flames that spread further around them with every passing second. He ducked behind one of the stone columns that held up the ceiling above the market district. Just behind him, Fire Nation soldiers came marching. The man at the front came to an abrupt halt, pointing toward the stairway up to the Viscount's Hall.

"Jenshi, take your men to the tower. If he's here, the Chantry would be a good place for him to hide." The corresponding soldiers gave their salute, parting from the original horde with perfect symmetry as they marched right past Fenris and toward the stairs. "Men, head toward the housing development. Don't leave a single carpet behind if it hasn't been searched underneath. The Seeker will torch you otherwise." Before too much time had past, and before Fenris could faint from holding his breathe: the soldiers were gone. They spat on the dwarves as they passed, kicking over their crates and scattering their wares across the stone pathways as more and more of the surrounding structures began to catch fire. One of them chuckled as he went rolling his wrist and watching the dwarven merchant whimper like a child as fire began to dance at his fingertips. 

"Stop that!" Fenris snapped, jumping from his hiding place and drawing his sword from his hip. The soldier, left behind by his troops, turned slowly away from his victim and toward the elf. He couldn't see the soldier's eyes behind his mask, he couldn't see anything. Too long he'd lived his life under the watchful eye of faceless soldiers such as this one, of heartless men who get a thrill out of the misery of others. 

"Can it, elf," the soldier snarled as he grabbed Fenris by the neck, digging his gloved fingers into his skin. The glove began to grow hot against him, he could feel the burns slowly lacerating the print of his hand onto his throat like a brand. "Or I'll-" 

Fenris reeled back and plunged his fist straight into the guard's chest, the magic in his markings allowing him to carve effortlessly through the skin, bone, and armor. He was immediately silenced as Fenris latched onto his heart, squeezing the frantically beating organ as tightly as he could. The soldier gasped and his hand fell from the elf's throat, collapsing onto the pavement as Fenris easily slid his hand free. 

 The dwarf gawked at Fenris in awe and the troop that the soldier had belonged to continued to march on- completely unaware of his death nor his absence. Fenris wiped the blood from his hand onto his thigh, turning toward the trembling dwarf and picking up some of the jewels and assortments that had been scattered across the pavement when the passing soldier kicked the stack of crates down. The dwarf sighed a breath of relief, grabbing what Fenris had missed and placing the jewelry back into the crate it belonged in. "Thank you, stranger," he said, smile wide and visible behind his thick beard. "I don't know how I can repay you-"

"No need," Fenris dismissed him as he stood up, taking the crate with him and returning it to what was left of the stack. "You must gather what belongings of yours are the most valuable and run, run as quickly as you can. Head to the Chantry, the gates to the south will take you into the grasslands. If you follow the setting sun, you'll make it to Markham in a week."

"Bless you, stranger, bless you," the dwarf gushed as he gathered a couple of crates into a tower in his arms, shuffling as best as he could up the stairs toward the Chantry.

Fenris moved to follow after him, but there were footsteps coming from the pathway to the Viscount's Hall. It was only one, so he did not move to hide. He only drew his sword, preparing himself for whomever or whatever might come around that corner. To his surprise, it was a woman. Short, dark hair, a Fire Nation colors and a bold seal on her arm band, as well as her chest plate. A Seeker, just like the one's he'd seen with the magister when he'd lived in Minrathous. She locked her gaze on him and gripped her sword, already free from it's sheath. He could see the reflection of the fire in her eyes, blistering amber. 

"As they say, 'Two birds, one stone'," she said, more to herself than to the elf before her. "You are under arrest, elf. You will be transported back to Minrathous and returned to your master, Magister Elward Danarius. If you do not submit, I will not hesitate to strike you down." Her accent was Nevarran. He'd heard the type before, but to hear it again was like the sound of rocks crumbling as one stands on the edge of the cliff. It was intimidating, foreboding of the fate he would soon meet. A return back to Tevinter, to his master. He shook his head and gripped the handle of his blade. He would not allow himself to be taken back to his master, dead or alive.

He shouted and charged at the woman, lunging at her and striking directly at her shoulders. Her shield blocked the move quickly, but the force of Fenris's blow knocked it clean from her hand- nearly bending the Seeker's fingers completely backward.

She cried out painfully and clutched her freed hand. Her stare hardened on the elf as she picked her sword back up from her feet. She drove heavy toward the elf's chest, but Fenris was quick to parry. He'd been trained to be the strongest slave warrior in Tevinter, a perfect body guard for such an esteemed magister. He could tell by the look on the Nevarran woman's face that she'd underestimated him. She shoved him away easily, making a disgusted sound as she popped one of her shoulders. "So, it seems you are a slave of worthy stature," she grumbled. "Most are weeping before any swords are drawn." 

"I'm not a slave!" he snapped, retaliating with another blow, this time toward her abdomen rather than her upper body. She easily avoided him, leaping right over his swing and expertly connecting the heel of her boot to one of Fenris's wrists. All the weight he'd put into that sword was now thrown into the ground, and his shoulder gave a loud crack against the concrete. There was another crack as his sword hit the stone not far from him, but far enough to be out of his reach.

The Seeker was on top of him in another instant, the tip of her sword pressed to the nape of his neck that was still rather sore from the searing hands of that soldier. She did not smile, but there was a twinkle of victory in her eyes that he could not ignore. "How foolish you are," she hissed, turning her blade just so that Fenris could see her reflection, the orange light of the fire growing around them. 

"Hellooo! Lady Seeker!" a voice called from the stairway to Lowtown, just several yards or so behind them. She looked up, sword falling away from the elf's neck as though she recognized the voice. For a minute, Fenris thought he did too. Several people came barreling up the stairs, a group of at least five. In the center of them was a thick-built man with a dark, neatly-trimmed beard and a marking of an arrow coming down the center of his forehead. The Seeker seemed to loose her breathe completely. 

"Hawke," Fenris breathed, hardly able to believe his eyes. 

 _"You!"_ The Seeker roared. "I _knew_ I would find you here." 

"That's right, it's little old me," Hawke wore his usual grin, putting his hands on his hips. "and, I've got friends this time."

She looked over the group of people around him, focusing on a man in dull colored robes with blond hair cascading around his shoulders. He was scrawny, but his gaze was almost as intense and intimidating as the Seeker's. "The _prisoner..._ " she made a frustrated sound, almost like an aggravated snarl and she stepped off of the elf. "I'll strike you down if it is the very last thing that I do, Avatar." 

She took a step forward to run at the airbender but Fenris acted quickly, rolling onto his stomach and snatching hold of the Seeker's ankle. She gasped as she fell forward, knocking her chin off the stone. The elf was on his feet in an instant, grabbing his discarded sword from the ground and tossing the Seeker's shield at the Avatar's feet. He gave the other a thankful smile as he picked it up, handing it to the younger boy beside him. "Bethany, Anders, Solas, Carver," he said, nodding to the people beside him. "Head toward the Chantry, secure the stairway. Make sure there's no Fire Nation coming in or going out. Protect as many civilians as you can." 

"No, I'm fighting. You're not making me sit out of this one," a young man said. He looked like Hawke, but younger, boyish in the face. 

"Go, Carver," Hawke shot back. "I have to handle this on my own. Go help the others. This is your chance to lead them, to be a hero." 

The young man, Carver, processed this for a moment before nodding. He tucked his sword back into his belt and ran toward the stairway with the others. The Seeker chuckled to herself as she slowly rose back to her feet, spitting some blood onto the ground. "You really are idiotic," she sighed as she came upright, bringing her sword back in front of her. "To think that your ancestors chose you to be their successor, it is absolutely mi-.." she spits out some more blood. " _mind_ boggling. How you managed to kill my brother, the best firebender in all of Nevarra, with one sway of your hand and yet you cannot handle a simple mad woman with a sword. You are a _disgrace_." 

"I didn't kill anyone!" Hawke insisted. "You're the one who killed my entire family, everyone I'd ever known my entire life. Gone." 

"You think you are so innocent, you always do," she snarled. "I cannot wait to bring your head to the Fire Lord, to avenge Anthony after all you've done." She seemed to be biting back a sob as she raised her sword above her head, charging at the Avatar and striking him right across the chest. He staggered back, clutching himself as blood seeped into the fabric of his robes. The corner of her lip seemed to twitch at the fear in Hawke's eyes, and she raised her sword again. 

Fenris was behind her in the blink of an eye. He dropped his sword, instead raising his hand as the lyrium markings across his skin began to light up like the fire that was slowly consuming all of Kirkwall. She turned with the agility of a wild cat, and instead of striking Hawke, her sword struck Fenris in the side, barely missing his vitals. She was on top of him again, just as she had been before, with her sword at his neck. "And now _you_ ," she growled. "I will bring your skin to your master as a trophy."

"No... you... _won't!"_

A gust of wind wrapped itself completely around the Seeker and threw her off of Fenris, landing her toward the very edge of the market district, her back slamming up against a concrete wall. Hawke ran to the elf's side, grabbing his arm and lifting him off the ground, pressing his sword into his hands. Hawke's hands were absolutely covered in blood, and now it stained the handle of Fenris's blade. He looked warily at the other, taking in all of his features as though he were seeing him again for the first time. "I thought you were leaving Kirkwall," he said.

"I was," Hawke laughed lightly, forcing a tight, pained smile. He quickly looked away, however, when he heard the Seeker beginning to rise to her feet again. She was battered, blood leaking from her nose and the corner of her lip. If she was scary before, she was ten times as scary now. Hawke took the elf's hand free hand, looking toward the Chantry stairway. "Come on, if we run we can beat her to that gate." 

But, before either of them could get the chance to run, a portion of the stone ceiling above the market district collapsed suddenly- creating a barrier of rubble and fire between the two of them, and the enraged Seeker. Hawke had a look of surprise on his face that told Fenris he definitely hadn't been responsible for that. Then, before he got the chance to speak, a massive pair of claws swooped down and snatched him up where he stood. Fenris spun around and looked up toward the sky to see a brilliant red dragon soaring away from him. Hawke's companions from earlier were sitting on it's shoulders, cheering and hollering. He couldn't help but feel like he was suddenly dreaming as he watched them vanish into the horizon. 

Despite the spectacle, Fenris knew he wouldn't have much more time before the flames swallowed all that was left of Hightown. He sheathed his sword and ran up the stairs, free hand clutching the open wound on his side. The courtyard in front of the Chantry was almost completely vacant, aside from one lonely dwarf standing next to a tower of crates that was just as tall as he was, if not taller. In his hands, he held the reigns to an ostrich horse that one of the soldiers had left behind in the chaos of the battle and the fire. "Here," the dwarf said. "I thought you might need this more than I do." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! if you could, please leave a comment telling me what you thought- writing action like this is hard 4 me. i would love to get some feedback on this, it would mean a lot


	7. Square One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After barely escaping Kirkwall with their lives, Hawke and company have set up camp and are preparing to make their way to Sundermount. Meanwhile, Cassandra has been forced to return to the Fire Nation. Upon facing Meredith, she is stripped of her title, her ship, and the force she commanded. With the good word of the commander, she was allowed to serve as a city guard in Nevarra, her home since she was a girl. Living in her uncle's estate once more, she is convinced that she couldn't have failed her father more. Fenris hopelessly wanders the road with his stolen ostrich horse in toe. When he finds himself in the company of a couple of war deserters keeping warm beside a fire. Here he hears the story of the first Avatar, and how the Fire Nation came to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, sorry for how late this is. This chapter is a bit of a filler / lore chapter, it's necessary for the plot and all but I lost all motivation to write it. I'm back now though, and hoping I can finish what I started because I enjoy the concept too much to just abandon it. Thank you to everyone who left me comments over this time! If anything helped me come out of my writer's block and keep on working on this project it was you guys !!!! 
> 
> Please leave me kudos and comments as you read if you enjoyed it, it's what convinces me that I need to keep going. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: In this chapter I'm going to get into the story as to why the Fire Nation is mostly human despite the fact that qunari are the first firebenders, and why the Fire Nation hunts dragons to prove themselves when in this AU dragons aren't truly the first firebenders at all. This story was crafted using some of the canon background of Thedas from DA- like how humans came to Thedas and such. The rest is completely original and crafted in order to appropriately shape this universe. Like I said in chapter one- some aspects of this universe are not exactly like the universe in A:TLA or A:LOK. A lot of things are different and have to be different if I'm able to successfully mash these two worlds into one. 
> 
> This universe is truly something unique in itself and it should not be viewed as an attempted equivalent to the universe in A:TLA or A:LOK. Any comments posted attempting to attribute this as such will be hidden and the user who posted them blocked.

_"Every moment happens twice: inside and outside, and they are two different histories."_

— Zadie Smith

 

"That was amazing, sister! Did you see that?That Fire Nation filth didn't know what hit him! The look on his face-" Carver laughed loudly. "I'll never forget that."

Hawke couldn't help but admire his brother for a moment. Was this really the first time he'd seen Carver smile since they'd met? 

"I assume this beast belongs to you, Hawke," Solas said, gesturing to Dog who slept not far behind: scales glittering in the light of the campfire. "He is marvelous. I'd heard stories of airbenders taming dragons but never imagined them to be true." 

"At first, I'd assumed he was going to eat us," Anders snorted. "I'm not sure if that would've surprised me more than the fact that he saved our lives." 

Hawke turned toward his faithful companion. His muzzle was pressed tight against the Avatar's thigh, as though he were attempting to fill his senses with the scent he'd gone without for so long now. Hawke ran his fingers through the fur lining the dragon's cheeks, fondly regarding the purr that rumbled from his chest as he did so. "The monk that raised me also raised him. He was passed down to me and so I've spent my entire life with him," he said softly. "We're known for the sky bison, but in truth they were sort of replacements when the dragons started to go extinct." 

"Fascinating," Solas looked at the two of them with his cheeks flushed in a child-like fixation. "Dragons have stronger spirits than any of us. In legend, they are the world's protectors. No matter how superior we see ourselves, no matter how strong we may be, in the eyes of the spirits who brought us into this world a dragon will always be greater." 

"Hawke," Bethany called, snatching his attention away from Dog. She'd left the campsite to search the woods for food. Their escape from Kirkwall was a struggle in itself, any food they had before that could have been brought with them had burned with the rest of the city. She held out a bundle of small red berries, dropping them in the Avatar's lap. "Take these, it seems like you need them more than I do."

"Thanks, Bethany, but I'm fine," he forced a smile, passing the berries on to Carver, who gladly took them off his hands. "Solas, if we flew, how long would it take us to reach the village?" 

"Ah, the Dalish settlement," he nodded to himself, shrugging his pack off and setting it on the ground in front of him. He pulled several scrolls from his pack, detailed maps that he'd drawn himself. He picked one and laid it out on the ground before him, eyes scouring the page. "It does not seem that we're far," he said. "but we should travel on foot. If anyone in the Fire Nation is looking for us, flying to Sundermount would be as fatal  as sending them a flare." 

"He's right, I doubt they'd forget about the dragon that swooped into Kirkwall to save the Avatar from the Fire Nation's clutches," Anders  added, tugging at one of his sleeves. "It's like the stories they told about Avatar Sethius Amladaris and his dragon. Except for the fact you're not trying to turn yourself into a powerful god and coincidentally start the Blight." 

"I'm sure the Fire Nation will make the same comparison when they speak of the events that took place in Kirkwall," Solas returned, turning toward Hawke. "They will make you out to be a monster, something that the masses should fear." 

Hawke took a deep breathe, hiding his face in his hands. "I never asked for this," he huffed. "I didn't ask to be the Avatar. I can't take this kind of responsibility, I don't know how to save Thedas." 

"But you have no choice," Solas reminded him, suddenly rising to his feet. "You are the Avatar, Hawke. You must master the four elements and only you can save Thedas. A hero does not ask to be born, Hawke. A hero does not exist for himself, he does not have that luxury. He exists for the people who need him, and he protects them." He tucks the scrolls into his pack before throwing it over his shoulder, pounding out the fire with his staff. "You cannot afford to act selfishly, Hawke. Too many lives are dependent on you." 

When the sparks die out and all the light thats left to guide their path is the dim sunlight peaking through the forest's canopy, Solas turns and forces his way through the bramble. "Come, we must head west where the sun sets. That will lead us to Sundermount." 

* * *

  She had to admit, despite how everything had happened, she'd missed the way her homeland had smelled. She'd not been able to come to Nevarra since she was a girl, and somehow her failures had granted her permission to return here. As a city guard, albeit, but it was something. She could have suffered much worse, for that, she was fortunate.

She'd made sure to stop by the local bakery upon her return, getting her favorite dark chocolate cakes, topped with exotic berries gathered in the south. The strange combination of aromas that greeted her as she sat and ate her cakes just before she was expected on duty reminded her of childhood. The bitter dark chocolate and the rich flavor of the berries, her uncle had bought this for her as well as Anthony when they were small- before he was consumed by his craft. The lingering smell of smoke and ash in the air, the mortalitasi at constant work, curating the ashes of dead royalty, nobility. And finally the smell of the cherry blossom trees growing at almost every corner, native to this region of Thedas only. 

It gave her something to think about besides the gravity of her actions in Kirkwall, the consequences of those actions. She could still feel the sting of Meredith's words as though they were whip lashes still fresh on her skin. _"It appears your father was right about you, Seeker,"_ she'd said. _"You_ are _a disgrace to your family name."_

If not for Commander Cullen and his kind words, she would be exiled- banished to the Anderfels or worse, hoping for mercy from the Fire Nation's enemies who resided there. She should be thankful for this much, and yet, she knew this was not the purpose she was destined to fulfill. She knew that this was the ultimate failure. No matter how lucky she may be.

"Lady Cassandra?"

The quiet voice pulled her out of her reveree, she looked like a deer in the crosshairs of a bow. Quickly, however, she reckognized her father's apprentice, Mistress Lilling. "Oh, it is only you," she relaxed noticably, taking her hand off of her sword. "I am too wrapped within my thoughts. You could have struck a blow at me, and I would have been defenseless." 

"I brought you something, I thought it might lift your spirits- with the world crashing down on you, and all that." She pulled a long wooden staff from a sheath on her back, holding it towards the Seeker. Cassandra felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her as she took the staff in her hands, running her fingers over the wood.

"The Avatar's staff."

 "Vestalus managed to retrieve it from Meredith not long after you left for Kirkwall. I thought you might want it." 

She admired the wood for several long moments, pulling the wings out and admiring the construction. "I... thank you." she said, smiling at the other. As she held it up to the light, she suddenly felt a new spark of hope. "Perhaps, all is not so terrible after all." 

"Perhaps," Lilling agreed with a smirk. She could have been pretty once, before the circle. Now she was a shell of herself, further degrading by the day. "When you finish your rotation, you should go and see Cullen. He wanted to talk to you, I guess it is important." 

"Thank you again, Lilling. Where is he staying?"

"For now, with your uncle. He plans to keep the Commander busy with his board games until you arrive." 

"Wonderful."

 Her uncle's estate was almost exactly as she had remembered it in her childhood. Golden walls and floors, embroidery in deep purples and blues. The center piece was a dainty sculpture of a skull- the Nevarran symbol and sake of the flag. A door was sealed on the far side of the room, empty urns stacked neatly near by. She'd seen the things that happened within that room, and she'd rather not remember it ever again. 

As promised, Cullen was sitting in the living area with Vestalus; who was keeping him busy with the Fire Nation's proud version of Chess. He looked up as soon as he heard the Seeker's  footstep, relief flooding into his features. 

"Thank you very much for the game, my lord," he said quickly and dismissively, practically leaping from his seat. He gave a friendly smile to Cassandra as he approached, though he was clearly spent. "Lady Cassandra, I have some very... very good news for you. 

"Simply Cassandra is enough, Commander," she sighs. "What is it? Has my father arrived to send me his apologies and good wishes?"

"No, far better than that," Cullen clasps a hand on her shoulder and gestures to the stairs, leading her up to the guest room that Vestalus had cleaned up for him. She hesitated in the door way as he entered, shuffling through his belongings before finally removing a set of scrolls, messages from his men- she'd assume. His scouts were very good about keeping their Commander in touch. 

Cullen reads the scrolls through briefly before handing them to her, a knowing smirk on his face. "My men have sent word that they've successfully tracked down the Avatar," he said.  "And, there is a good chance that we know where he is headed." 

She felt her knees go weak and she nearly dropped the scrolls in her hands. Unrolling one of them, it was easy to find the proof behind Cullen's words. While she was in Nevarra, he'd sent the remaining soldiers after their target even after she was removed from her position.   "Sundermount," she concluded. "The Dalish Water Tribes." 

"Yes," Cullen nodded. "but there is... bad news as well." 

Cassandra paused, taking a moment to look her friend in the eyes. "Bad news?" 

"Ah- yes," he swallowed, gaze averting the Seeker's. "Since I am acting outside of my orders given by my superiors, they will no longer continue to supply me with lyrium." 

Cassandra was taken aback. Lyrium was a magical substance used by Fire Nation Templars who weren't born as benders. It gave them the ability to bend as though they were born with the talent, but it was extremely addicting. A templar who stops taking lyrium can succumb to terrible madness, or even death. "How long ago was this?" 

"Since we left to travel to Fereldan," he confessed. "I'd been meaning to tell you but..."

Cassandra took him by the chin, forcing him to look at her and not at the floor. With two fingers, her grip was still strong enough to rip his entire bottom jaw off if she intended to do so. "How do you feel, Cullen?" It wasn't a question, it was a demand. 

"I... I can bare it," he huffed. "but, Seeker, should my judgement be compromised because of this, should I become a threat to you or to my men..." he closed his eyes, pulling her hands away from his face so that he could compromise himself. "I would like you to... permanently relieve me from duty." 

She gasped. "Commander, are you suggesting-" 

"I am," he retaliated. "I would rather die than become a mad man, a shell of my former self. If I will die because of this, if I won't make it, I would like to die before I become less than a man, before I become a monster." 

"You could never be less than a man, Commander."

"Promise me," he pleaded. "Swear to me that you will strike me down should I take a turn for the worst." 

She stared at him in silence for a moment, not sure what she was supposed to say. This man had been loyal to her as long as she had known him, and he was easily the only friend that she had ever had. He was strong, she knew this, but if the withdrawal compromised him, if it turned him into some one he was not... Every person was to die eventually, right? If she were in his shoes, what death would she prefer? 

"Alright," she said finally. "You have my word. But you are a strong, honest man. I shall not see you leave my side so quickly." 

"Thank you," he let out a heavy sigh of relief, falling back into a chair beside his bed. "You don't know how much that comforts me." 

"So," Cassandra looked back down at the scrolls in her hands. "Does this mean that we are travelling to Sundermount?" 

Cullen nodded. "In the morning, as soon as my ship is ready." 

"Good." 

* * *

With Solas's guidance, they were safely able to arrive at the base of Sundermount by the afternoon of the following day. Happily so, as well. The travelers had grown weary of the road, so the glares of the elves at the entrance to the camp, though extremely suspicious, were a welcome sight. Solas bowed his head as he approached them, dreadlocks falling from his shoulder to cascade down the sides of his face like thick black curtains. _"Ara seranna-ma*,"_ he said, slowly rising and steadily meeting the eyes of the other elves. "We come in peace, seeking only shelter and knowledge."

" _Garas quenathra,_ flat-ear? You expect us to trust the shemlen?"  One of the elves, the one carrying a bow, nods towards the party of humans behind him. 

Solas gestures to Hawke, his other hand propping up his staff as to rest his weight upon it. "We have come with  _Ghil Dirthalen,_ the Avatar." 

The first elf looked stunned for a moment, his gaze flicking from the elf in the furs toward the burly man in bright orange robes. _"Ghil Dirthalen?"_ he narrows his eyes, observing Hawke as if searching for some kind of proof to that title. "The Fire Nation destroyed all of the air temples over twenty years ago. You expect us to believe a child survived alone through that?"

"See his tattoos. _Tel enfanim,_ they alone should be proof enough." 

Taking the signal, Hawke slowly pulled off his gloves and doffed his hood, humbly holding the tattoos on his hands up for them to see, gaze respectively held towards the dirt. The elf approached him, snatching him harshly by the wrist, running his fingers over the tattoos. "He speaks the truth. These tattoos are of _Elgar Revas,_ the Air Benders."

"We will welcome you into our camp, strangers," said the second elf, gesturing for the first to put his bow away. "but we are wary of the _Fen'sylnuman_." He glowered toward Carver and Bethany, their lineage distinguishable in the blue clothes and silver furs that they wore. Anders had fit into that category as well, despite the fact that he was a healer, born outside of the southern water tribes. 

"Thank you," Bethany said quickly, giving a respectful bow to try to hide the color that had risen in her cheeks. "I promise you that we intend no harm to your good people."

The second elf nodded, turning to follow the path into the main camp and gesturing for the others to follow suit. Anders came to walk beside Hawke as they rounded the hill side, stepping into a vast clearing with several wooden huts built around it, and large vehicles resembling boats with wheels stationed at one side. "Pardon me for asking, but where is your dragon?" he whispered, looking warily toward the Avatar. 

"He stayed behind at our last camp, in the forest," Hawke explained, keeping his tone equally hushed. "I assumed that it would be better to bring him here after we'd gotten on friendly terms with the Dalish. Solas was afraid that we'd intimidate them if he was with us at first. So, he's hiding." 

"Aren't we being hunted by the Fire Nation? Are you sure that was _wise?_ " 

"Dog will be fine," Hawke assured him with a smile. "He'll be back with us in a day or two, and he's a dragon. He handled himself for twenty years while I was in that ice berg, I'm sure he can handle himself now."

"What if he were found, Hawke? What if something should happen to him?"

"Relax, Anders. I have this under control."

The healer huffs audibly. "If you say so, Hawke."

Upon entering the camp, the group is approached by a tall, smiling elf with blond hair and deep black vallaslin gliding across the pale skin of his face. "Welcome to our camp, travelers," he chimed. "You may refer to me as Lavellan, the head scout and hunter of our clan. I would introduce you to our First and Keeper, but they... aren't really here at the moment." 

"They aren't here?" Carver interjected. "Aren't they your _leaders?_ Where else could they _possibly_ be?" 

Lavellan cast a glare towards Carver, and Bethany promptly snatched him by the ear, pulling him back behind her so that he couldn't say anything else potentially damning. "The war is heading this direction as we speak. The Keeper and her First have left to ensure that the road we take on our way out of these lands is a safe and permissible one. She refused to loose any more of her scouts to the Fire Nation, and so she declared that she and her First would go themselves." 

"When should your keeper be returning?" Solas asked, his tone even and patient. "Our friend here came in the hopes of learning how to waterbend, as no one knows the art better than your people." 

"They are _your_ people as well, flat-ear," Lavellan noted, his tone light and playful despite the insult. "but you have a  _Fen'sylnuman_ in your company. If you have her, then why would you need us or our Keeper?" 

"I'm last in my tribe," Bethany said with a sigh. "and I'm hopeless at it. I had hoped... I had hoped that _I_ could learn from your people as well." 

Lavellan nodded, pondering this for a moment. "As much as my fellow elves are known to despise humans, we treasure magic very deeply. No matter who this magic is expressed through or how. My Keeper and her First should return by sunrise tomorrow. I am sure that if you remained and made yourself comfortable in our camp, she would be glad to assist you in your cause. As, you _are_ friends of the Avatar."  

"That is a marvelous work of art," Solas noted, gesturing to a carving made into the stone on the side of a cliff face that shielded the camp. He appeared to have strayed away from the group once Bethany started talking, his own way of "settling in", perhaps. The carving appeared to be one of the past Avatars, one who had been born as a Dalish elf. "Tell me, how long did it take for you to create this?" 

Lavellan smiled, looking admiringly toward the artwork. "Our First, Merrill, carved this out of the rock when we first arrived here," he said.

 "We had just been chased out of our last home by the Fire Nation, and many of our kinsmen were slaughtered," he continued. "We felt as though there was no hope for us, that we would continue to run only to be cornered at some point or another and picked off like vermin. She was the only one of us who still seemed to have faith. The night of our first arrival, she told us the story of Avatar Mahariel and how she'd saved us from the fifth Blight. Of course, we all knew that story already, but to hear it told again at such a time of despair: it got this clan back on it's feet again."

"Come now, I'm sure you care not for the many stories of the Dalish," Lavellan gestured toward one of the huts across from a small, dim-lit campfire. "Allow me to help you settle in." 

* * *

It had been two days since Fenris had last eaten any food. He could feel his stomach growling, as though it threatened to consume his other internal organs if he didn't eat something soon. The ostrich horse that the dwarf from Kirkwall had given him as a mount abandoned him the day before, wandering off into the wilderness while he slept. This did not surprise Fenris. Good companionship was hard to come by, even from a bird. 

He'd found himself in the thick of the forest beyond the Wounded Coast now. It was pitch black outside, no stars in the sky nor moonlight to guide him. He simply wandered blindly, his only assistance coming from the trunks of trees as he felt them out with his hands. He heard a twig snapping somewhere around him, and his heart nearly stopped. When he realized that the sound had come from his own feet, cracking a tiny branch beneath his step, he made a frustrated sound and cursed under his breath.

Would it be so bad if he just slept here? Where else had he expected to go? What else had he expected to do? It was too dark for him do do anything, and his feet were caliced and bleeding at this point, toes peppered with mud and thorns. 

Fenris gripped the tree he stood closest too, leaning up against it and allowing himself to slide down onto the ground. What had he been thinking when he decided to run away from Danarius? What inspired him to be so foolish?

He sighed. He couldn't pretend that he didn't know. It had been those rebel Qunari in Seheron, fighting to preserve their land and way of life from the greedy hands of the Fire Nation. Their power, their bravery had showed him what freedom was like, what true freedom was meant to be.

And yet, he'd killed all of them simply because his master wished it. He couldn't forget that. He remembered the look of betrayal on their dying faces as he ripped their hearts out when they had stood up for him, and had attempted to protect him from Danarius. 

Was he a monster? Is that what all those years of servitude had turned him into? 

He could see it now, the palms that lined Seheron, the crystaline white sand that shimmered in the sunlight. Powerful men and women sparring, preparing for the battle to come. For these people, every step they took, every word they spoke, was a battle: a crucial part of their rebellion, their fight for survival. Each day was another act in a war that they couldn't afford to lose. 

Yet, as that Tevinter steelclad ship came in over the horizon- splitting the ocean in two, as Danarius and his men in skull-shaped masks marched onto the beach, the one who stepped up to defend Fenris was not the leader of those warriors, Herah- as he remembered, instead... it was Hawke. 

The goofy "mercenary" he'd met at the Hanged Man that drove an arrow into his heart  through sloppy Wicked Grace and his drunken tears at the sight of Fenris without his armor to hide the full extent of his markings. The Avatar himself, in the flesh, who Fenris would have readily robbed of innocence. Guilt ebbed at him like a knife wedged through his sternum, prodding at his heart. 

Fenris had made love on occasion after fleeing from Tevinter. A handsome elven man who had allowed Fenris to travel with him over the Frostback Mountains, a woman from a tavern who had gotten him drunk enough to show her how far his tattoos really did go, and a couple of others he didn't bother to remember in much detail.

He could count them all on a single hand, of course. It was part of the sense of freedom he felt outside of Danarius's clutches. He could live, he could feel all sorts of attraction and act upon it without reprehension. He liked to think that he would not slip into bed with just anyone, it took a select set of traits to get through the mental barrier Fenris had hidden hismelf in. However, after what had happened with Hawke, he felt as filthy broad in a village brothel: throwing himself at whomever should come by. 

He knew this assumption was wrong, he knew that Hawke was not just any man who came along and wasn't the first to try flirting with Fenris: though Hawke's attempts were quite more hilarious than most. Yet he kicked himself. He kicked himself for attempting to soil the purity in that man. He kicked himself for letting his ostrich horse slip away. He kicked himself for the forest floor presently dampening his trousers.

Yet he could still see the beach and the Fire Nation boat as clear as day. Hawke with a sword in one hand, pressed to Danarius's throat, and fire forming in the palm of the other. "You will not take him," Hawke bellowed, deep voice resonating through him like a canon. "He is under the protection of the Qun, and no longer belongs to you. Leave. Now." 

The elf's heart leapt into his throat, looking from Hawke to Danarius as he knew just what would happen next. The magister's snake-like gas flitted toward Fenris, a wry smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Kill him, little wolf," he ordered. "Kill him now. Do as your master tells you." 

"Fenris is not bound to you," Hawke barked, fire in one hand growing brighter, stronger. "He-" 

It was almost too easy for Fenris to catch Hawke off guard, snatching his arm and twisting it almost completely around to send him screaming in pain. He acted as if he were trapped inside his own body: moving without wanting to move, a routine that had been burned into his very skin. As his fist plunged into the humans chest, his eyes looked fearfully up at the elf, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

"Fenris-" he choked, blood dribbling down onto his chin. "You could have..."

Fenris regained consciousness with a jolt, sending him upright: his muscles tight as he gasped for breath. He was not in the forest any longer, a small campfire built at his right gave him the ability to finally see once again. Sitting on one side of the fire was a young man with a shade of Tevinter in the color of his skin, wearing a Fire Nation chestplate. The other man wore the same chest plate, but his skin was much darker and his lips seemed permenantly pressd into a frown. Not soldiers, no. A soldier would have killed him, or brought him in. Deserters, by the looks of it. 

"Ay! I was wondering when you'd come to. I'd have pegged you for dead," said the younger man, popping off the cap of a bottle with his forefinger and thumb. "The name's Cremisius Aclassi, and that guy over there is Stitches. You can call me Krem, for short." 

 "Did you intend to kill me?" Fenris asked, eyeing the two of them warily. "or return me to the magister?" 

"Neither one," Krem assured him, taking a swig from his newly opened bottle. "You seem tough. I'm not interested in taking you on if I can avoid it." 

"Then why am I here?" 

"Your dumb ass fell asleep out in the middle of the woods," he laughed. "We stumbled across ya, and you weren't looking to good. Stitches said we should try and fix you up." 

Fenris's gaze immediately fell to the bandages on his wounds from the battle in Kirkwall, wounds that he'd completely forgotten about over the past two days. He'd been so hungry, he could hardly think of much else. "I am... Fenris," he finally croaked.

"Well, Fenris, take this," the other man, Stitches, finally spoke, holding a small roll of bread out towards the elf. "You seem like you need it more than I do." 

Fenris would normally humble himself and reject such an offer, but the way the bread felt under his fingers, the smell wafting up into his nostrils, it was too much to resist. He took a bite, stuffing half the roll into his mouth and sighing in content bliss as the flavor danced over his tongue. Never had he thought that a simple roll of bread could taste so good. 

"What are you doing out in the forest by yourself, Fenris?" Krem asked as he finished his first bottle of mead, reaching in his sachel for another. 

"Fleeing a magister," he replied bluntly. "That I supposed you would figure. After the Fire Nation ambushed Kirkwall, I'm lucky to be here with my life."

"Ah, bloody mess that was," the younger man shook his head. "Good thing we'd booked out before that shit played out. True face of the Fire Nation for you there." 

"Where are you headed?"

"Antiva, the Earth Kingdom," Stitches answered. "Got word that somebody's trying to start a mercenary band, thought we'd join up." 

"Mercanary band?" Fenris pondered this thought for a moment, furrowing his brow. Did he have anywhere else to go? No, but joining a mercenary band in Antiva would not be ideal if he was determined to keep Danarius from finding him. 

"Are you heading anywhere particular?" Krem asked with a smile. "We might be able to watch your back for ya." 

Fenris returned the smile, but his posture was still very guarded. "I-..." he wasn't sure, actually. Where was he planning to go? Kirkwall was gone, and as was his place of sanctum and safe harbor. He was a sitting duck if he didn't find somewhere else to go. "No. I'm not." 

"Come along with us then. The three Fire Nation escapees, they'll tell tales of us." 

"I'm not so sure about that," Stitches rolled his eyes. "but you're welcome company, Fenris. It would be nice to talk to some one other than Krem to fill the silence." 

"Oh whatever, asshole." 

Fenris chuckled under his breath. "I suppose I don't have a reason to say no," he sighed. "i had never figured myself a mercenary."

"No one says you gotta be," Krem assured him. "You just gotta watch our back, and we'll watch yours. Deal?" 

Fenris nodded. "Deal." 

 A silence fell over them after that. Krem offered the elf some mead, that he reluctantly declined. He was happy to drink the bottle himself, popping the cap with his forefinger and thumb.

"Have you heard the story about how the Fire Nation came to be?" Krem grinned mischievously as he bent forward, elbow propped on his knee, his bottle of mead dripping from beneath the cap. "It's quite a tale, and you never really get to hear it in the south. And they especially aren't gonna tell the story to a slave, don't wanna inspire you to rebel or shit like that." 

"I suppose you'll tell it to me either way," the elf teased, leaning back and crossing his arms. 

"Not me, Stitches is better at it than I am, by a long shot." 

"Tell it then, we have the night." 

Stitches gave an irritable sigh, reaching out for his own bottle of mead and popping the lid. "Alright, alright. The story goes like this,"

"In the beggining, before the Avatar and that, the world's only firebenders were the qunari, who lived on the islands and the beaches of the northeast. Of course, elves lived in the forests above ground, while the dwarves had their undercities, their mines, and their thaigs. Humans lived on the tops of the mountains, in the air temples, seperated from the rest of the world. Tevinter was what bore the Fire Nation to become what it is now.

"It was formed by a group of air nomads who rejected the monk's way of life. They wanted to explore the world below them, to conquer it and what ever else it had to offer. Their leader was an air nomad called Dumat, I think. That's just in the story I heard, other people will tell you Dumat was a dragon but that's not important for the tale. Anyways, He formed a gang, kinda, and turned on his superiors. He and his followers were supposedly the first airbenders to use their abilities to murder.

"Stories say that air benders once shared their temples with dragons who made their roosts on the mountain peaks. They were viewed as equals in the eyes of the monks, and were treated that way. Dumat and his followers captured these dragons and forced them into submission against their will, mounted them, and used them as a means to escape the temple.

"First, they traveled to the ancestral temple. At the time, it was supposed to be a legendary place where young monks would go to receive their coronations. Since there was no barrier between the Spirit Realm and the mortal world at this time, a temple of this altitude was a place where you could contact spirits with little effort.  

"Here, they came into contact with several friendly spirits who they planned to "tame" just as they had tamed the dragons. They wanted the spirits to teach them how to breathe fire the way that the dragons did, so that the enemies they'd face on the mainland could never match them. The spirits obviously refused to help Dumat. Dumat was, obviously, furious. He and his men mounted their dragons and destroyed the temple, burning it to ash just like Kirkwall. And they vanished in search of any one or anything that could allow them to acquire the dragon's power.

"As time dragged on, Dumat's dragons became weary from lack of food and water. When they discovered the peninsula that would eventually become Tevinter, the dragons could only collapse on the shore. So, he left the beasts to die there.

"A qunari tribe had it's claim on the land and they were understandably startled by the presence of the humans. Dumat and his gang peacefully surrendered to the qunari, even though he and his people outnumbered the tribe two-fold. They were brought welcomingly into the qunari home but then Dumat discovered that they could wield fire at their finger tips just as he and his comrades wielded air. 

"They quickly turned on the qunari, taking over their entire village and holding the giants prisoner until they revealed the secrets of their ways. When they would not confess, Dumat commanded that the men and children be tortured, that the women be raped, until their efforts bore fruit. Entire years began to pass, and these women would come to bare the humans' children. Surprisingly, these half-blood beings looked no different from humans, aside from being notably taller and bulkier, some being just as thick-built as the giants who birthed them. Not only that, but these half-blood humans could wield fire from their fingers just as the qunari could. 

As decades drew on, Dumat created an entire army of firebending humans, keeping the qunari caged like livestock, breeding the women like cattle. The men were kept as slaves, serving the humans every wish. He'd built an entire city for these firebenders, of course this would later become Tevinter. He spread the reaches of his city in every direction. His army took over the land that would eventually become Fereldan, doing the same to the elves as they had done to the qunari- raping their women and enslaving the men as well as their children. Stealing their power right from their wombs. The elves tried to warn the dwarves, but it was too late. Any dwarf who came to the surface to trade with an elven ally was captured by the Imperium. Absolutely no one was safe from their grasp. 

By the time Dumat grew old and weary, the entirety of Thedas had been claimed, conquered, and enslaved by the Imperium. Humans did not only wield air, but could now wield earth, water, and even fire. The first four, the ancestral spirits who had supposedly first brought life to our world and given us the gift of magic, knew that the humans had to be stopped. They came together as one soul, an immortal spirit living in a mortal body- the Avatar. The Avatar was to free the slaves of Thedas and restore peace to a nation that desperately needed it. The first Avatar was born in Fereldan, the city of Denerim, as a human woman to a human, and the first four declared that her name would be Andraste, and she would be the protector of Thedas,

"and of course we all know the tale of Andraste," Stitches gave a dry laugh. "As a child in the Fire Nation, they raise you to believe that it was the other way around. That Avatars became lanterns for dark spirits, like the one that started the Blight.They tell you that we can bend fire because we were victims of rape and torture by savage Qunari, who stole the power from dragons. Thus you think dragons are the first firebenders and everyone worships them: it's probably why they say Dumat was a dragon. I don't really know. But as soon as we heard that the Avatar was alive, and we learned the truth about our homeland we just..." 

"It was the straw that broke the camel's back," Krem huffed. "Couldn't fight for people who'd lied to you and manipulated you your whole life. Told you twisted versions of fairy tales just to keep you from walking out the door. It's sick." 

"It's propaganda," Stitches corrected. "but either way. As a former slave, I'm sure you can understand why we decided to leave." 

Fenris nodded, he could understand. Even though he couldn't read or write so he would have never heard such a story- it only caused the hatred in his heart to burn even brighter. If he had ever wanted to rip out Danarius's heart so badly, he would have done it right then instead of fleeing like a coward. 

"How did you hear this?" He asked, looking down at his hands. 

"Some priest was talking about it and we overheard," Krem explained. "Apparently most people in Tevinter have their lies shoves so far up their asses that they don't know what's really real. Priest was trying to talk a soldier down with it, only got himself killed." 

"We should get some rest, we have some travel ahead of us before we reach Markham," Stitches sighed. "and I don't feel like carrying either of you up that road." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Elven phrase
> 
> Ara seranna-ma = A formal greeting
> 
> Garas quenathra = What do you want? / Why are you are you here?
> 
> Tel enfanim = You have nothing to fear. 
> 
> Elgar Revas= Air Benders, literally means "Spirit Of Freedom".
> 
> Ghil Dirthalen = The Avatar, literally means "Guide Of Glorious Purpose". Shortened version of the original title: "Sulevin Ghilana Hanin". 
> 
> Fen'sylnuman = Refers to a human waterbender, literally means "Thief of Spirit", as a human can only water bend if he or she has elven blood somewhere in his or her ancestry.


End file.
